


on a bed of roses (where i wanna kiss your silhouette)

by Aurelie (NowImJustSomebodyThat)



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, F/F, F/M, M/M, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 08:15:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13994211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NowImJustSomebodyThat/pseuds/Aurelie
Summary: Maia Robert's life has been defined by her soulmate's tendency to get into fights and brawls, marking her with dandelions that make her sick to her core.Jace Wayland's life took a turn for the unusual when four thin lines of strawberry flowers wound their way around his neck one night while he slept.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This little plot bunny has been hanging around since That Episode, and I swore to myself I was going to get it finished. What better way to force me to at least get it properly started than a Big Bang, huh?
> 
> My utmost love to Isabelle (chaoswillcalmusdown on tumblr) for being an amazing beta and dealing with my dumbass comments at random times in the morning. My utmost respect and adoration for Mercy (portalins on tumblr) for being an amazing artist and perfectly visualising what my brain was thinking of.
> 
> The chapters will roughly contain two episode's worth of writing, or one really really long episode. It'll say in the chapter notes what episodes are in the chapter.

Then

 

Maia’s parents knew something was wrong when she woke up one morning with her hands covered in dandelions. Her little four year old mind didn’t know, didn’t understand, that somewhere her soulmate had shattered fingertips and aching hands from a piano teacher who didn’t understand the concept of constructive criticism.

 

Her father sat her down and held her close as her mother called everyone she knew, trying to find this poor child. “Just overnight, there was nothing there when we put her to bed and now her hands look like front gardens.” Her father held her hands and traced little patterns amongst the dandelions, singing songs under his breath as the house began to flood with people, everyone looking at her hands, always her hands, poking and prodding and stretching her fingers like the location of her soulmate was under a leaf, or a petal.

 

Her father, the quiet genius that he was, took her out of the room and into the back garden, where dandelions, bolder than the ones on her hands, stood proud and strong. “See those flowers in the garden, Maia?” He said, and she nodded. He reached out, and plucked one. The stem was the same vibrant green as the leaves on his fingertip, Maia’s mother had burned herself with a too-hot frypan, and he pulled the flower up to Maia’s face. “These flowers, they’re good. They’re bright and happy and make the world pretty.” With his other hand, he touched one of Maia’s. He held it in his own hand, his long, strong fingers almost dwarfing her doll-like hand. “These flowers here mean that your soulmate’s gotten hurt.”

 

“My soulmate?” Maia looked at her hands, and squinted at her palms. “How’d you know?”

 

Her father held his fingertip close to her nose, and she gasped. “Your mama wasn’t careful with that new frying pan of hers, and got burned. I got a little mark too, see the tiny bluebells? Same colour as your mama’s eyes. That’s so I know that your mama got hurt, and I can make sure that they’re okay.” He pointed to her own flowers. “You can use your own flowers to make sure that your soulmate is okay.”

 

Maia craned her neck to look at her dad, who smiled and kissed her nose. “Am I gonna meet my soulmate?” She asked, and her dad wrapped his arms around her, burrowing his face into her neck.

 

“Yeah, baby, you’ll meet your soulmate. See the flowers on your hands? They are the same colour as something your soulmate has. Your mama’s flowers are as blue as her eyes, and she says that my flowers are bright green, like my eyes. So, what could be yellow about your soulmate?”

 

Maia thought really hard, her nose scrunching up as she thought, before it clicked. “Their hair!”

 

Her dad laughed, “That’s right baby, their hair! And that’s how you’re going to find them. Follow the flowers.”

 

Maia nodded with all the integrity a four-year-old can muster. “Follow the flowers.” Maia then looked at her dad. “Daddy?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Did you feel it when mama got hurt?”

 

Her dad frowned a little, and shrugged. “A little, but it felt like a little poke, and not being really burned. But that’s only because we’re really close to each other. If you didn’t feel it, then your soulmate must be really far away.”

 

~~~

 

The first adult to see Jace’s soulmate flowers isn’t his father, but Maryse. She’s training him herself, focusing on his footwork when daisy-like flowers crawl down his arm. She stops, and Jace takes the opportunity to disarm her. He laughs, then notices that she’s staring at his arm. “What are these?”

 

Maryse looks at him, confused. “Has nobody told you what they are?” Jace shakes his head, and she sighs, before leading him to the library.

 

“Why are we going to the library?” He asked as she looked through a shelf of books.

 

“I need to explain what those flowers are, and I need to find out what type they are.” She said, before pulling a leather-bound tome off the shelf.

 

“Before you start explaining anything,” Jace said,” Just tell me this. Am I gonna die?”

 

Maryse looked at him, before laughing. She shook her head. “No, Jace, those flowers won’t kill you. They’ll help you find your soulmate.”

 

“My who?”

 

“Soulmate. Somebody destined to be right there, by your side, through thick and thin.”

 

Jace frowned, “But what about a parabatai bond? Isn’t that the same?”

 

Maryse shook her head. “Parabatai is a warrior bond, they are brothers-in-arms and would die for the other. Soulmates are lovers, somebody who will love you unconditionally, no matter what happens to you.”

 

“Oh.” Jace said, looking at the trail of flowers down his arm. “What does this mark mean?”

 

Maryse sat down at a desk, and Jace sat next to her. She held his floral hand, and sighed. “It means that your soulmate got hurt.”

 

Jace blanched. “Our soulmates get every bruise? Every cut? Every scratch?”

 

“They don't get our runes, but they get everything else. And an _iratze_ doesn’t speed up the healing on their end, either.” She explained, and Jace began to panic. Maryse could see the fear in his eyes, and squeezed his hands. “Jace, it’s ok. Everyone gets hurt sometimes.” She said, rubbing the back of his hand with her thumb. He breathed in deeply, before exhaling slowly. He did that a few times, before looking at Maryse.

 

“My dad, he, um, he used to break my hands when I played the piano wrong.” Jace said, and Maryse blanched.

 

“Jace, I’m not mad at you, okay, so nothing I’m about to say is directed at you.” She said, and Jace nodded. Maryse got up, and faced the wall. She breathed in, breathed out, breathed in, and then stared down _Seelies and Soulmarks_. “Hey, Michael, you sick fuck, I hope you’re listening. What the fuck is wrong with you? What the fuck? How the fuck can you think it’s a good  idea to break your kid’s hands for playing the piano wrong? You and your fucking salami fingers? I can’t believe I’m saying this but the only reason I’m mad that you’re dead now is because I can’t kill you myself.” Maryse breathed in, then out again, then sat back down. “Don’t tell Robert I swore in front of you.”

 

Jace pretended to zip his lips, then lock them, then throw away the key. She raised one eyebrow, silently glad that he was feeling humorous again, and he made a show of finding the key, unlocking his mouth and unzipping his lips. “You said you needed to find out what type of flower it was.”

 

Maryse nodded, flipping through the book. “Each flower has a different meaning. For Shadowhunters, our flowers show something defining about our soulmate’s life. For mundanes, it’s a physical aspect of their soulmate.”

 

“What about warlocks, or werewolves?”

 

“Werewolves and vampires were once mundane, so have flowers which show physical aspects. Warlocks and seelies were born with their power, and so, like us, know something about our soulmate’s lives.” Maryse stopped flicking, and held one page against Jace’s arm. “Strawberry flowers.”

 

“What?” Jace asked.

 

“They’re strawberry flowers. For mundanes, this could mean they’re born in Spring or have odd-coloured hair or eyes. For us, this means that your soulmate will be given a new life, different to the one they had before.”

 

“Because they meet me? And they’re introduced to the Shadow World?” Jace asked, and Maryse shrugged.

 

“I don’t know, Jace, but no matter what happens, I’ll be right here, okay?” Jace nodded, before wrapping his arms around her. She stilled in surprise, before relaxing and returning the hug.

 

~~

 

Maia’s soulmate hadn’t shown up for a week, and she was getting worried.

 

Normally, she woke up looking like an unattended front lawn, but for the past week and a half no new flowers had sprung up. If that meant that an adult had stepped in to stop them from doing stupid shit (most likely), or they were injured (unlikely- Maia would have something to show for it) or worse, she didn’t know, and it made her worried.

 

Everyone else she knew had soulmates who popped up every so often, with grazed knees or paper cuts or burnt fingertips, whilst her soulmate seemed to fade in and out of existence, going easy, a bruised knee or paper cut, before coming back with a bang, and leaving Maia half-green. Were they being abused? Were they at war? Thoughts about what this soulmate of hers could be dealing with plagued her dreams, and nightmares about bloody dandelions tended to keep her up well into morning.

 

Maia wasn’t trying to count how long it took for new flowers to appear, she wasn’t, really, but every time she woke up she repeatedly checked for new marks, new blooms, and it scared her even more with every passing day.

 

And then, after a month of silence, Maia woke up with dandelions across her stomach. She pressed her hands against the field of green, and laughed. Her soulmate was alive, and well enough to get hit in the stomach. “What the hell do you do, soulmate?” Maia asked nobody, trailing her left hand over the field on her stomach. The dandelions were an odd shape, but a really familiar one. Maia trailed her hand around the outline, and then it clicked.

 

It's a foot. What the fuck is her soulmate doing to get kicked in the stomach hard enough to bruise?

 

“Guess I gotta be the hero, soulmate?” She asked nobody, and the wind outside her window whistled in reply.

 

~~

 

Jace Wayland - but basically Lightwood, a much nicer, more alive name than the one he was born with - knew his soulmate was different when four long lines of strawberry flowers blossomed along his neck. They stretched from the front to the back, taking up the whole left side. He twisted his neck in the mirror, trying to see them from every angle. They were vivid, yellow-white, and-

 

“Werewolf claws.” Maryse was standing in the doorway, and Jace’s hand flew to the mark. He stared at her, eyes wide, and she sighed, before stepping into his room and closing the door. “Jace, I’m not mad.” She said, and he let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. She walked towards him, slowly, not wanting to scare him off. “Let me see.” He moved her hand, and she trailed her fingers over the claw marks.

 

“Do you think they’re going to be okay?” He looked up at her, and Maryse sighed.

 

“I don’t know. What I do know, however, is that it’s probably going to be easier to explain that you hunt demons for a living.” Maryse joked, and Jace sighed.

 

“Mom, no.”

 

Maryse studied the face of her son, and smoothed out a wrinkle which had formed on his forehead. “You're worried.”

 

Jace nodded. “What do I do? Do I have to choose between my soulmate and being a shadowhunter?”

 

Maryse held his face in both hands,”I will never force you to make that decision. While I am head of this Institute, you will never have to choose.”

 

Jace sighed, and leant into her right hand.”Thanks, Mom.”

 

She half-smiled and nodded. “No problem.”

 

~~

 

Luke Garroway was the one to give her The Talk - not the Sex Talk, god no, the ‘Hey so you turn into a giant dog once a month here’s how to keep it under control and stuff’ talk-  which she really tried to pay attention to, but she kept watching the pink-white blooms unfurl on his knuckles.  “Maia.” He said, and she started to attention, a deer in headlights.

 

“Um.” She said eloquently, and he sighed.

 

“I know this is a lot to take in, but I need you to pay attention.”

 

She flushed in embarrassment, “Sorry, I was distracted by your blooms. On your knuckles, your soulmate seems pretty mad.” He tensed at the mention of his soulmate, and Maia frowned,

concerned. “You okay?”

 

“My soulmate and I aren’t on good terms.” He said, and Maia’s jaw dropped.

 

“Wait- hold on a second. You know who your soulmate is? And you’re not together?” He turned away, and she backed off. “I guess it’s a sensitive subject, huh.”

 

He sighed, then looked directly into her eyes. “My soulmate chose Valentine over me, then gave up Valentine so that they weren’t locked away in a building for the rest of their life.”

 

“Oh.” Maia said, looking down at her hands. “I’m sorry that happened.”

 

He sighed again, then let his head fall into his hands. “You know the worst part?” He looked up at her. “We only figured it out when I turned, because she showed up at my best friend’s house covered in claw marks and yelled that she never wanted to see me again.”

 

Oh. Shit.

 

“Wow, that’s, man that sucks huh.” Maia said, completely at a loss on how to reply.

 

“Yes, it ‘sucks’. Now, will you actually pay attention to everything I’m about to say, or should we do this another time?”

 

Maia shook her head. “I can listen, I can listen.” She folded her arms on the table and smiled. “I’m all ears.”

 

~~

 

Jace was the first person Alec saw when very distinct flowers bloomed on his side. Alec had shoved Jace into the nearest room with a door - luckily enough, Jace’s bedroom- , slammed the door and pulled off his shirt. “What the fuck are these?” He hissed, pointing at his side, and Jace’s eyes widened and he whistled. Alec’s soulmate blooms were fucking huge, indicating that his soulmate was close by, but mainly left Alec looking like somebody threw a bucket of flowers at him. Most of his right side was yellow and brown petals, with a few stamen in between each cluster of five. Jace reached for his book on flowers, and flicked through.

 

“Tigerlilies, which mean confidence, protection against harm and nobility. Congrats, dude.” He slapped him on the shoulder, then stopped as a wave of panic - not his own - washed over him. “Alec?”

 

“I’m fine.” Alec snapped, snatching his shirt off of the floor. He pulled it over his head and walked out.

 

“Fucking weirdo.” Jace said to nobody, but made a conscious effort to push as much comfort through the parabatai bond as possible.

 

~~

 

Luke isn’t the pack’s first choice for a new Alpha, but nobody visibly relaxes until Maia’s phone - along with everyone else’s - chimes with a text from an unknown number:

 

_Garroway is fine. Recovering well, will return in morning_ \- M Bane

 

Maia wonders about his soulmate a little bit, and also wonders if they’re in pain, too. She hopes they are.

 

~~

 

Before Jace steps through the portal, he skims his stele over his shapeshifting rune, and feels the odd chill as his soulmate blooms are covered over his neck. Meliorn looks at him, and tilts his head in confusion.

 

“Ashamed, Shadowhunter?” He half-sneers, and Jace throws a glare in his direction.

 

“I don’t know what’s going to be there when I come out of that portal. I’m not putting my soulmate at risk.” At that, he walks through the portal.

 

~~

 

Maia keeps feeling little tingles on her cheek, which grow in intensity and accumulate into what feels like a punch in the gut halfway through an experimental martini. She gasps, knocks over a glass in shock, and clutches at her stomach, which blooms with dandelions which peek through the sheer parts of her dress.

 

~~

 

Jace wonders when the rune is going to wear out, and when Valentine is going to find out that his soulmate is a werewolf. He hopes he dies before then.

 

~~

 

Maia wakes up screaming, every centimeter of her back aching and vivid green-yellow, and can’t get back to sleep.

 

~~

 

The last thing Jace remembers is praying that jumping into the ocean doesn’t bruise, because he thinks he can feel his soulmate’s stubbed toe.

 

Now

 

Maia took two painkillers and dug her nails  - almost claws, that’s how much it hurt - into her bench, breathing in time to the faint tick of her antique clock. _In, out, in, out, in, out._ As the painkillers took the edge off, she brushed colour corrector over every visible flower on her face and arms.  The petals vanished under the makeup, and she did everything else as routine.

Eyes, then face, blending the corrector into the foundation, then lips.  Her phone trilled with a text, and she groaned as she read it:

 

_Need you to come in asap_

 

“Fuck you.” Maia said to nobody in particular, before grabbing everything she needed and throwing it into the tiny bag she normally used. Keys, medication, travel makeup for touch-ups to the forestry on her skin. She was about to throw her phone in there when it trilled a second time. Luke’s name flashed on screen, and she tapped the ‘answer button’.

 

“Hey, Big Dad Wolf.” She said.

 

“Maia.” Luke answered, and Maia sat down. This was bad. This was the ‘Somebody’s hurt’ tone. The ‘Valentine is getting close’ tone. The ‘Get ready to wear black to work tomorrow’ tone.

“Gretel’s dead.” Her heart dropped.

 

“Oh. Has anyone told Annie?” Maia asked, thoughts flying to Gretel’s soulmate, a mundane with the sight who literally ran into her on a coffee run.

 

“She’s the one who told us. Time of death was about two this morning.” _Same time as my soulmate’s... whatever. God, please don’t be linked._ “We’ve been called in about a body on the  beach, it might be her.”

 

“What do you need me to do?”

 

“Get to the Hunter’s Moon, be there for everyone. I’ll get there as soon as I find out who did this.”

 

Maia nodded, then replied dumbly, “Okay. Be safe.”

 

“I will.” Luke ended the call, and Maia put her phone down on the table in front of her, before letting her head fall into her hands and letting out one long sob.

 

Fuck.

 

Gretel’s dead. She let out another heavy sob before wiping at her face and getting up.

 

“No crying over the dead, Maia. They can't hear you.” She said to herself, before throwing her phone into her bag and leaving her apartment. The walk to the _Hunters’ Moon_ seems both  longer and shorter than normal, maybe Father Time’s decided to fuck with her today, draw out the pain whilst simultaneously leaving her no time to mourn.

 

The front door key jingles in her palm, and she unlocks it. The heavy wood swings open, and she isn’t surprised to see that the bar is occupied by part of her pack. Luke and Alaric are out, looking for the killer, but some members of the pack are busying themselves by playing pool, and a few booths are filled with mourning wolves.

 

It’s going to be a long day.

 

She needs to find something to do, keep her hands busy with something that requires enough concentration to stop her crying, but little enough concentration that she doesn’t break anything.

 

Cleaning. That’ll work. She grabs a clean washcloth and starts to polish pristine tumblers. The stack of ‘cleaned’ tumblers begins to grow, and Maia’s just started her third dozen when a blond shadowhunter stumbles into the bar looking like a hot mess. His forehead has a cut on it, and the copper smell tinges the air. A few other wolves start at the smell, nothing else, and it’s a sure sign of their grief that nobody moves when he moves towards the bar. She turns the glass in her hand over and fills it. Maia automatically checks him for blooms, but she can’t find any. Weird. Shadowhunters are usually covered in them.

 

“You look like you could use a drink.” Maia says, placing the glass on a napkin on the bar. “And a towel.” She grabs a dry one from under the bar, and places it next to it.

 

The shadowhunter’s eyes widen a little bit, like he wasn’t expecting the generosity. “And, uh, just your phone?”

 

“I’d ask what happened to yours, but I assume it got wet.” She says, and he huffs a laugh. The sunlight catches on his mismatched eyes.

 

“It’s a long story.” He replies, sitting at the bar.

 

“Well, I’m here all day, and besides, I hear Shadowhunters love to hear themselves talk.” He looks up at her in mild shock. It’s a little endearing. “What, you didn't think I would recognize those runes on the back of your neck?”

 

He looks at her, closer now, takes all of her in, and he stops at the swooping scars on her neck. “You're a werewolf.” Maia finger guns in response, before grabbing the handset from under the bar - she really needs to see what else is under here, she might find her college tuition or something - and placing it beside his drink.

 

“Typically, the phone is for paying customers, but I'm feeling generous, so on the house.”

 

“Thank you.” She can tell by his eyes that he means it. She holds out her hand.

 

“I’m Maia. It’s nice to meet you.” He takes it.

 

“Jace.” He takes a sip of his drink, and grabs the phone and stands by the window. She can hear bits of his conversation it’s that quiet, and she can tell by the way his shoulders begin to shake that something’s wrong. From the sounds of it, his brother is really sick. Dying, almost.

 

Jace gets off the phone, and runs his hands through his hair, breathing in and out a few times. He looks at her, and she can almost see the flash of fear racing across his eyes before whatever Shadowhunter training he has slams back into place. He hands the phone back to her.

 

“All good?” She asks.

 

“Yeah, thank you.” He lies.

 

“Didn’t seem good.”

 

He shakes his head. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

 

“Cool, because we could use your help. Shadowhunter help.” She nods to Taito in the corner. “See Taito over there? The Circle took his Goddaughter from right in front of him, so I was hoping maybe you could help him out.” Jace looks to Taito, then back at her, head shaking a little.

 

“I wish I could.” He says, and she frowns.

 

“You have something better to do?”

 

“It’s not like that.”

 

“I’m still waiting for an explanation.”

 

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

 

Something feral rises up inside Maia, rough and angry and ready to fight. “You need to do your job, Shadowhunter. You’re supposed to protect us.”

 

“My brother needs me. I just.. I just need to go.” Jace goes to leave, but Taito - holy shit when did he move - is right behind him. Taito pushes Jace back, and a snarl forms on his face.

 

“I think he is the one that needs protecting.” Taito looks Maia right in the eyes. “This is the guy who kidnapped Gretel.”

 

Oh, _motherfucker._

 

“Look, I don’t wanna hurt anyone, okay?” Jace says, like it makes it all better.

 

“That’s too bad, ‘cause we do.”

 

Before she got comfortable with the whole transition thing, Maia used to think of her ‘human’ form and her ‘wolf’ form as two separate people, a Jekyll and Hyde if you will. Now, certain in her anger and pain, it’s more like doing adrenaline and having the ability to move beyond human limits. Maia’s eyes begin to burn with the transformation, and Taito’s mimic hers.

 

This is gonna be fun.

 

Jace puts his hands up. “Look-” he starts, but Taito slams into him, sending him back. More wolves dive in, and Jace is keeping them away with decent skill, which Maia would admire if she currently wasn’t imagining ripping Jace’s throat out.

 

Her pack surrounds him, and he’s passed back and forth like a punching bag. And then, in an instant, he isn’t, and he’s fighting them off with impeccable skill.

 

And, nope, all that skill vanishes and Taito slams him into the bar. And, yep, Taito drags him across the top and smashes all her glasses. Jace grabs an empty bottle and smashes it into Taito which, Maia knows from experience, does nothing. It’s a little funny when Jace realises it, then even funnier to watch Taito beat the shit out of that face.

 

Maia’s face tingles a little bit, and she swiftly swallows two more painkillers.

 

Taito’s got nowhere to go, so, interestingly, he throws the murderer out the window and onto the pavement. The Shadowhunter gets up and runs.

 

“Fucker. That motherfucking asshole took Gretel, I’m gonna rip him to shreds!” Taito yells, fists shaking.

 

Maia moves out from her little corner and places one hand on his shoulder. “We’re gonna find him, don’t worry. There’s nowhere in New York that we don’t know.” She goes to walk out, and winces at the crunch of glass. “But first, clean up. I don’t wanna do it now, but I’d rather now than covered in blood.”

 

The others nod, and the wolves all work to clear the glass and the rubble. A few bloody knuckles are taken care of, and most of it is cleared up when Luke and Alaric arrive. They’re tired, and fatigue sits heavy on their shoulders. Luke looks at the glass and the rubble and raises an eyebrow.

 

“Bar fight.” Maia explains, and Luke sighs.

 

“If it was over the Doritos again, I’m banning them for life, and I mean Warlock life.” He jokes, but it falls mostly flat, aside from a few huffs. There’s a clipboard under Luke’s arm. “What’s that?”

 

Alaric walks behind the bar and grabs a bottle of water. “There was a witness who saw Gretel on the beach. Gretel wasn’t the only one there, there was a bl-”

 

“Blonde Shadowhunter?” Maia finishes, and they look at her. “One was in here before, hence the fight. Taito recognised him as the fucker who took Gretel.” _And killed her._

 

Luke shows her the clipboard -  it’s adorned with a rough sketch of Jace. “Look familiar?”

 

She takes the clipboard. “Yeah, he’s prettier in person but that’s the guy. Should have never let him get away.”

 

“After what he did to Gretel, I vote we return the favour.” Taito says, and Maia nods in agreement.

 

Apparently, that was the wrong answer, because Luke immediately stands taller. “This is not a democracy. Nobody is killing anybody until I say so.”

 

“Oh, he can, but we can’t?” Maia growls.

 

“That’s not what I said.”

 

“He kidnapped her. What more evidence do you need?” Maia snaps.

 

“I was there.” Taito adds.

 

“And, as you just said, the witness found him standing over the body in the morning. I mean, you’re the detective, isn’t that what you call an open-and-shut case?”

 

Luke looks between them both. “No, it’s not. Jace is too smart to leave a body laying around.”

 

Taito beings to growl. “Whose side are you on?”

 

Luke doesn’t back down, and stares at Taito. “I’m on the side of the law.”

 

Taito doesn’t back down either. “Who’s law?”

 

Well, nice to know that conflict de-escalation course she did has some uses. “Chill, Taito. I think we’ve had enough bar fights for one day.”

 

“I know the rules. Blood for blood. If Jace is really doing Valentine’s dirty work, I’ll kill him myself.” Maia’s lips twitch into a sadistic smile, and Luke breathes heavily. “But first, I want to make sure that he actually is doing Valentine’s dirty work, and it isn’t some sort of power play. Stay here, don’t cause trouble.” He looked between them, and they both nodded. “Alaric, let’s go, I want to get this sorted before the mundanes start sniffing around.” Alaric chugs his water bottle, then artfully throws it over his shoulder into the bin before waving as he follows Luke out the door.

 

Maia waits a few minutes before speaking. “Clean up the rest of the glass, then we go hunting.”

 

The pack starts rushing to clean, and she barely has time to gather her things before the bar is spotless and the pack is thrumming with nervous energy. She leads them out of the bar into the empty side street they sit on, and locks up behind them before divvying up parts of the surrounds. Taito leaves first with two other wolves, and everyone else pairs off, leaving her alone to cover back alleys and side streets. She steps through piles of rubbish and lifts her head a little bit.

 

There it is. On the wall, up ahead, the coppery tinge of blood with the crispness of whatever makes Shadowhunters what they are. She crouches, and pounces. The Shadowhunter has left a trail of bloody handprints and marks where he’s stumbled into walls and caught himself at the last second. She turns a corner, and there he is. Maia’s arrived just in time to see him smack into another wall. It’s very satisfying. She slows her pace enough to not sound as she moves, but fast enough to still close in.

 

“You can’t hide your scent, Shadowhunter.” Maia says, and the Shadowhunter speeds up - well, not really, seeing as ‘speeding up’ means ‘stumbling faster than before’ - in response. She’s so close, just a few extra feet, when he throws a trash can and stumbles onto a lit street. Mundanes swarm around him, calling ambulances, and Maia watches as they load him into an ambulance. She watches the direction they go in, and overhears the hospital.

 

She sneaks back into the alleys, and breaks out into a run.

 

Her nails keep lengthening and shortening as the wolfy part of her attempts to rip its way out of her skin - not yet, _not yet_ \- and the sound of her feet hitting the ground is enough to  regulate her breathing into some form of calm. The streets fly past, and she ends up at the door of the hospital a few minutes later. The faint smell of Shadowhunter blood wafts through the open doors, and she’s about to go in when Luke walks towards her.

 

“Maia, what are you doing here?” She points to the door.

 

“Found your Shadowhunter.” He raises an eyebrow, and she sighs. “I didn’t touch him! He ran into some mundanes who saw his injuries from the bar fight, okay?”

 

“I believe you, don’t worry. I guess you count as backup, right?”

 

“Where’s Alaric?”

 

Luke chuckles a low chuckle. “He has a date.” Maia’s eyes widen a little bit.

 

“Nice.” The clipboard is still under Luke’s arm. “Wanna go get our man?” He nods, and they walk in together. The smell of Shadowhunter blood gets stronger and stronger with each turn they take, and it’s almost overpowering when they run into a doctor and a nurse with a vial of blood. Bingo.

 

“Excuse me.” Luke says, putting on his ‘Nice Cop’ voice. Does that make Maia the ‘Bad Cop’ even though she’s not a cop?

 

“Officer?” The nurse blinks up at Luke.

 

Luke gestures to the clipboard. “Any chance you’ve seen this person? We got a tip that he might be in the ER.”

 

The nurse looks between them, and Maia softens her face a little bit. It must convince the nurse, because she gestures to a room behind her. “Over there. He came in a few hours ago.”

Maia and Luke move, and the nurse coughs. “But we still need to run a few tests before we can clea-”

 

“It’s okay. We just wanna have a quick chat.” Luke says, and she nods, watching them enter the room.

 

And the bed is empty. Great. Luke sighs. “Look around. He’s gotta be here somewhere.” Luke goes back the way they came, and Maia goes the other way. She rounds a few corners, then hears the nurse yelling. She spins around and, _hello,_ there’s the Shadowhunter, covered in blood and looking at her like a deer caught in headlights. She takes one step, two steps, and  feels the Shift begin.

 

It starts in the spine, vertebrae shrinking and splitting and shifting, followed by her limbs and her ribs and finally her face. Her nails lengthen, and the feeling of hair rapidly growing from every inch of skin is something that will never not be unnerving.

 

She lands on all fours, and can vaguely hear the Shadowhunter talking. What’s more noticeable, however, is the smell of blood.

 

And as Luke just said, blood for blood.

 

She pounces.

 

Maia hasn’t had just a thrilling chase in a long time. The Shadowhunter attempts to slow her down by throwing things in her path, and she almost, _almost_ , has him when somebody opens

the door at the top of the stairwell and pulls him through, shutting it behind him.

 

Maia snarls and scratches at the door, furious and angry and ready to sink her teeth into that bastard flesh, to rip and tear and take what is owed by the laws of her pack. She watches as a redhead - another Shadowhunter -  takes the Shadowhunter away, and she snarls all the more.

 

After a while, she realises she might need opposable thumbs from here on out, and unwillingly shifts the anger and fury back into a passably human form. She adjusts her jacket, and heads towards the Jade Wolf.

 

The wolf is still pissed, and it makes everything too loud and too bright and too- Her senses are heightened and that means she can smell fresh Shadowhunter blood a few blocks away.

 

She runs.

 

She hears somebody call her name, but she’s deep in the chase and won’t let go until there’s blood on her teeth or an Alpha to hold her down. She flies over garbage and between clumps

of people and closes in as the home of the High Warlock looms overhead. There’s two wolves in the distance, and they can smell the chase on her so much that they shift and join her.

 

The Shadowhunter moves left, takes a right, moving towards the home of the High Warlock, and Maia knows exactly where to cut him off. She takes a sharp left, and waits, flanked by

wolves on either side.

 

As the Shadowhunter rounds the corner, the wolves next to her growl, and Maia smirks. “End of the line.”

 

“So close.” The Shadowhunter breathes. More wolves sneak around, surrounding him, and defeat sits well on his shoulders. “And yet, so far.”

 

Fury overtakes Maia’s want to gloat, and she steps forward. “Gretel was our pack member. And she was my friend. You need to pay for what you did to her.”

 

“I didn’t kill her.” _Liar._ “Valentine used me, just like he’s using you right now. Us fighting with each other is only giving him what he wants.”

 

“Really?” The wolves snarl, and Maia almost does too. “Give me one good reason why I should believe you.”

 

“Because I know what it’s like to lose someone you love.” Well, that wasn’t the answer she was expecting. “What it’s like to lose family. My brother is counting on me. Just… You can kill me, but please let me get to him first.”

 

It’s almost trustworthy, the way he puts on puppy dog eyes and plays the dying brother card. But the wolves by her feet are howling for vengeance, and she smiles. “Well, I wish I could, but, uh… it’s them you’ll have to convince. You see, we’re not just doing it because of Pack law. Gretel had a soulmate, who woke up this morning covered in black lilies. That’s how we found out she died, Shadowhunter. We didn’t find her body at 2am on the beach. Her soulmate rang my Alpha and told him that her soulmate had just been killed. She woke up screaming, screaming for a soulmate that you took from her.” The wolves at her feet creep towards the Shadowhunter, and Luke and a redhead - not the one from before - come tearing round the corner.

 

“Stop!” The redhead yells, and Luke stands at his full height.

 

“Stand down!” He yells.

 

“Keep out of this, Luke.” Maia bit back.

 

“Jace didn’t kill Gretel. It was Valentine.” The redhead - why did she seem familiar- “I’m telling you the truth. I swear!” So, he’s telling the truth?

 

It doesn’t seem to stop the wolves, however, as one lunges at the Shadowhunter, but a whip wraps around his neck and stops him from clamping his jaws around his arm. “Stay.” The new Shadowhunter, sharp and sleek and setting off all of Maia’s warning bells. “By the order of the Clave, Jace Wayland is coming with me.”

 

Maia must have moved, because Luke moves too. “Maia!” He stares her down, eyes vivid green. “I said, stand down.”

 

Part of her - the wolf, that impulsive dickbag of a wolf - wants to fight, to rip her way out of this and take what is owed. The rest of her lowers her head, and looks at the ground. It’s over. The Shadowhunters and the redhead leave, heading towards the High Warlock’s home, leaving Luke, Maia and the still-shifted wolves.

 

“Maia, stay here. The rest of you, back to the Jade Wolf. Now.” The wolves slink off, and Maia doesn’t look up. Luke walks towards her, and stops in front of her.

 

She takes one deep breath, and looks up.

 

He’s not mad, per se, disappointed, maybe? But there’s something settled in the depths of his eyes that makes Maia think that maybe she didn’t stuff up too terribly.

 

“You went against my orders, and almost got an innocent killed.” Oh. Maia’s hands clench into fists automatically, and he sighs. “And here I was thinking you weren’t going to turn out like me.” Maia’s face must show her confusion, because his face softens. “You aren’t here just for yourself, I heard you talking about Annie. You’re stubborn, and reckless, but you protect your own, even if that extends beyond the Pack.” He places one hand on her shoulder. “And, sometimes, protecting your pack means putting away your claws and being human for once.”

 

Oh, _god_. “Annie.”

 

“Yeah, Annie. Alaric is there now, and I want you there with us as well, okay?” Maia nods, and follows Luke to his car, which is parked on a corner. They get in, and the drive to Annie’s place is quiet.

 

“What does she know?” Maia asks when they’re halfway there.

 

“About Gretel’s death, or in general?”

 

“Her death.”

 

“We only figured it all out just now, we’re going to tell her the truth.”

 

“Oh.” Maia looked down at her lap, and sighed. “Okay. Have you done this before?”

 

“As a cop, not as a werewolf. It’s going to be hard, but I want you to be here, not just because you’re close with Gretel, but because I think you could have a huge role in this pack one day.”

 

“Um, okay? I don’t really know why-”

 

“You organised a New York-Wide search with the entire pack in the half hour that I left you alone.” Oh, yeah, that was a thing Maia literally did six hours ago.

 

“Well, when you say it like that-”

 

“Stop being sarcastic and listen to me. I trust you, Alaric trusts you, the pack trusts you. Do you want me to teach you to be a leader, or not?”

 

“I’ll do it. I want to learn.”

 

Luke pulls into a spot magically right outside Annie’s house. “Good. Lesson One: How to mourn with others. Be kind, be open, be soft.” He gets out.

 

“Be kind, be open, be soft.” Maia repeats, before nodding once and following him up the stairs and through the unlocked door. There’s a coat rack piled with scarves and coats, and the soft sound of conversation flowed through the plant-lined hallway. Most of the photos on the table have been pushed down, and none of the ones facing up have Gretel in them.

 

Maia and Luke add their coats to the pile, and make their way to the living room, where Annie’s immediate family - those who know the truth - and some of the pack - including Taito - are sitting. Annie’s wrapped in a blanket in the middle, and she looks up as they enter, dark eyes tinged red. The wolves stand, and at that everyone else does too.

 

“I’m not the Queen, sit down.” Luke says, fatigue dragging on the last word, and Annie’s lips twitch into something like a smile as she sits. “How are you doing?” Luke asks, and she shrugs.

 

“It hasn’t really set in yet, you know?” Her arm moves under the blanket, most likely to the now-grey lilies mirroring the scar Gretel got when she fell off a motorbike. “Like, I keep thinking she’s going to walk through the front door and tell me about all the dumb shit she did today, and then I’m going to tell her that I already know because I look like a florist’s floor, and we’d laugh about it and she’d call me names and, fuck, _Luke_ -” Annie breaks, and Maia’s heart tears at itself at the sound Annie makes. Her shoulders shake a little under Luke’s hands, and Maia finds herself at Annie’s feet, pressing on her knees.

 

She wants to say so much, but instead says nothing and lets Annie cry.

 

Maia’s face starts to tingle again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jace is in prison, Jace gets out of prison, and necromancy is discussed over bagels.
> 
> Or: Episodes 4 and 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends!!! 
> 
> A quick note on how this fic is set up; it'll be mainly whole episodes dedicated to a particular point of view, either Jace's or Maia's. They'll most likely be in groups of two - so about 7k words an ep - and should be done within a few weeks of each other. I am a full time uni student and a part time worker at other places and am trying to get into a phd programme so those first two things will take priority, but this is my destresser so we may end up with more updates more often!
> 
> Enjoy!

This cell smells like ass.

 

Well, okay, not really, but it’s pretty close. Jace leans back against the wall and flinches as the cold moisture seeps into his shirt. The walls are damp, the ceiling is damp, the floor is damp, and the Silent Brothers are doing that thing where their patchwork faces are giving off a great smug asshole vibe.

 

Well, it could be worse. It could be Valentine’s ship. Alec could be dead. The thought rips through his body like serrated knife, dragging the memory back to the surface.

 

_Alec, dying, dying, dead, and the feeling of Magnus’ magic ripping at his control and making everything shake barely registers as Jace’s soul - no, his entire being - is left alone after a decade of brotherhood. A light bulb blows, then another, and Alec inhales so deeply that it masks the sound of a third shattering in the hallway. Jace grabs his hand, and out of the corner of his eye Clary grabs Magnus’. A heavy power settles in the room, and Jace moves aside so Magnus can press his forehead against Alec’s._

 

Jace sighs. Yeah, could be worse. A lot worse.

 

Could be a lot better too, but that’s beside the damn point. Voices echo from down a corridor - a Shadowhunter probably asking about something inconsequential - and Jace ignores the wetness on his back and leans on the wall. Might as well get comfortable. There’s footsteps, they’re getting closer, and torchlight flickers onto the wall opposite his cell. One of the criminals a few cells down moves and pleads with an unseen figure, and the sound of one of the Silent Brothers speaking draws Jace’s attention. He gets up, hoping for the best but assuming the worst.

 

More footsteps, and the Silent Brother stops in front of his cell. Right behind him is Clary.

 

“Jace.” She says, firelight bouncing off the little orchid representing Isabelle’s chicken pox scar on the side of her nose. There’s hope in her eyes.

 

“You shouldn’t have come here.” He then turns to the Silent Brother. “Take her out.”

 

“No.” Clary immediately protests, and in her haste to spin and face her guide Jace sees a bouquet of orchids peeking out from under her collar. “I’m not going anywhere… Unless I know you’re gonna be okay.”

 

Something shifts inside Jace. He’s fine, really, aside from a large number of bruises, but Alec.. “Is Alec safe? Is he alright?” Jace automatically moves into the light, and Clary softly smiles.

 

“He’s fine.” In relief, Jace leans on the bars, and Clary reaches for him. “Jace, I feel terrible. You’re here because of me.” What.  “If I hadn’t fallen under Dot’s spell-”

 

“You’re not what put me here, Clary. I have to pay for my actions.”

 

“Not by yourself. What can I do to help? Please, tell me, I’ll do anything.” His sister’s fingers tap a melody along his knuckles, and he draws away.

 

“You can stay away from me.”

 

She frowns. “What?”

 

“No matter what happens, never come near me again.”

 

“Jace, what are you talking about? You’re my family.”

 

“I am Valentine’s weapon. You think he’s just gonna let me go? He knows that you… You’re my sister, that makes you a weakness. If I ever get out of here, he’ll come after you again.”

 

“Let him. I’m not afraid, my soulmate dual wields swords as big as my arm on the regular. Your parabatai is the best archer in the city. We’ll fight him off together.” It’s heartbreaking, how desperate she is to keep their little group alive, but Jace is a criminal and there’s no amount of puppy eyes which are going to change the Clave’s mind.

 

“I’m not part of that together, Clary, not any more. And I never can be.”

 

Clary starts to tear up. ”Jace…” Something hardens in her eyes. “So if Valentine goes after your soulmate you’re just going to say ‘sorry, no together’? Dammit Jace, stand up and fight!” It’s a low blow and she knows it.

 

Jace looks to the Silent Brother. “We’re done here.”

 

“No.” Jace moves back towards the wall, and the Silent brother places his hand on Clary’s shoulder, beginning to pull her away from the bars. “Jace, come on, don’t do this, Jace!” Her protests bounce off the walls, and Jace sighs into his hands as he slides back down.

 

It’s going to be a long life.

 

The drips of water from the ceiling are the only sense of time moving, and Jace has lost count of how many drips a handful of times when screaming starts from somewhere deeper in the catacombs. He starts, and approaching footsteps reveal Clary, strength in her eyes and blade by her side.

 

“Clary.”

 

“I know you said to stay away, but, sorry, I can’t. I’m not leaving my brother to rot.”

 

“Don’t you understand? Being near me means that your life is at risk. You need to get out of here, need to stop seeing me, or you’re going to get killed.”

 

She steels herself. “I’m not afraid.” She moves towards the bars, reaching out to him. He reaches through the bars, and presses against the spot he knows is decorated with orchids. His hand moves down. It wraps around her blade.

 

“You should be.” The knife plunges into her stomach.  The first trickles of blood wrap around his hand, and he winces as his hand slams against the ground as he jumps awake.

 

Jesus fuck this place. He puts his head in his hands, and breathes deeply a few times, the way Alec showed him. In, out, in, out.

 

“Jace?” A voice calls, and Jace starts. Who the fuck..? He gets up, and the voice speaks again. “Are you okay?” The voice, it’s rough from disuse and the damp in the air but there’s a very small number of people who have asked if he’s okay, and an even smaller number who have a reason to be in the catacombs.

 

“Hodge?” Jace half-answers, half-asks.

 

“Try not to sleep.” Hodge answers. “The Silent Brothers use mind control to haunt you with nightmares of those you’ve hurt the most.”

 

“You must never sleep.”

 

Hodge huffs something which could be a laugh. “You were right to take my hand, Jace. I never should have given the Cup to Valentine. Maybe someday you’ll forgive me.”

 

“I don’t believe in forgiveness.” A voice in his head which sounds suspiciously like Isabelle whispers _bullshit_. “I stand by my actions, good or bad, and I accept the consequences.”

 

“Unmerciful to the bone. That’s what’s always made you the best. But this place… It’ll bleed every ounce of defiance out of you.”

 

Something primal rose up from deep inside Jace. “I’m nothing like you. They want me to bend, they can die trying.”

 

“Wait until your trial. After what they do to you, you’ll end up like me.” Hodge falls silent, and Jace leans back against the wall, and closes his eyes.

 

The darkness had no room for timekeeping, and Jace doesn’t know how long it’s been when two Silent Brothers - one bearing shackles - arrive at his door. He gets up, and the muscles in his shoulder protest the time - most likely hours - he’s spent in that position. “Jace Wayland, it is time for your trial.”

 

The door opens, and he doesn’t move as they shackle his hands and feet. The weight of them is immediate, and the thought of his soulmate waking up with these marks crosses his mind as they walk him through the corridors, up and down staircases and through empty pathways to the small room where they hold the trials. There are three Clave members there, with sharp suits and uncaring eyes, and the two holding him lead him onto a platform behind the Soul Sword.

 

The Silent Brothers move, and grasp one end of the sword. “You stand before the sword, accused of treason against the Clave, as well as the murder of two Downworlders.” They place the sword in his hands, and the feeling of the raw power sends a shiver up his spine. Be thee innocent or guilty, may the truth free thy soul.”

 

“Have you anything to say before we start?” The man - British, judging by the accent - closest to him says - obviously the leader - and Jace immediately goes for sarcastic.

 

“Facilis descensus Averno.”

 

“The descent into Hell is easy.” The man translates. “I’m glad you believe in our sacred Clave motto.”

 

“Alec and I use it to remind each other we can’t be broken.” And there it is. Hello truth magic.

 

And with that, the trial begins. “Did you kill the werewolf Gretel Monroe?”

 

“No.”

 

“But you captured her for your father, Valentine Morgenstern, after being encouraged by your spellbound sister.”

 

“I accept full responsibility for my actions.”

 

“You have a great love for your sister, considering that you only discovered her existence a few weeks ago, don’t you?”

 

“Leave Clary out of this.”

 

“Answer the question. Yes or no?”

 

The sword glows in his hands, and the magic wraps around his throat and forces the answer out. “Yes.”

 

“Interesting. Do you love your father?”

 

“I love the dream of the father I wished he’d be.”

 

“The kind of father who wouldn’t kill a young boy’s falcon.” Okay, _how the fuck?_ “Yes. I know more than you think about you and dear dad. To love is to destroy. Quite a harsh lesson for a six-year-old boy. Do you agree with that sentiment?”

 

The sword glows again, harsher, and its magic chokes down the memories of Isabelle colour-matching concealer to hide his flowers to force out a pitiful, and quiet, “Yes.”

 

“Do you feel your father’s goal to kill all Downworlders is just?”

 

The places where his soulmark flowers rest burn as the sword rips through his body. “Yes and no.”

 

“Which one is it?”

 

“Both. My father’s world view may be misguided, but I’ve seen the vampire dens that are thriving because of the Clave’s lack of action. Your lack of action.” And, oh, that was the wrong thing to say, because his questioner shifts, hands sliding into pockets and smiling like a cat that’s cornered its prey.

 

“Final question. Can you pledge your unconditional loyalty to the Clave?” Motherfucker.

 

“Facilis descensus Averno.”

 

“I asked you a question. Can you pledge your unconditional loyalty to the Clave?”

 

Thoughts and images rip through Jace’s mind - the dens, Simon’s now-impossible trial, the look on Robert’s face when Isabelle mentions her soulmate, the look on his face when Jace mentions his, Alec sneaking out at night to go talk to Magnus - and the sword forces out stammered vowels.

 

“Answer!” The man orders, and the answer forms out of Alec’s panic at his soulmark flowers’ first appearance.

 

“No! No, I can’t.”

 

“Based on your testimony, I will recommend to the Clave a punishment of life imprisonment. May the Angel have mercy on you.”

 

An idea pops into Jace’s head, and he sends an apology to the poor werewolf who’s going to have grey flowers along their neck as he swings the sword towards his neck, then screams as a burning sensation courses throughout his whole body. It moves from his arm up his throat, and rips through his brain, sending pain down every nerve and muscle and bone.

 

“Thank you, Brother Jeremiah.” The man says, and Jace mentally curses. “There will be no martyrs here. Get him back in his cell.” The Silent Brothers help him up - when did he fall - and drag him back to his cell. They unceremoniously push him in, and a heady presence in his mind stops him from running the second they take the shackles off. The shut the door and leave, taking the brain fog with them.

 

Hodge was right - not that he’d say it out loud, of course - resistance is futile, and all that. Best to just wait it out and hope to die quickly. Jace leans back in his spot, and closes his eyes.

 

At the sound of screaming and swordfight, his eyes fly open. He moves to the bars, pressing his face against them, trying to see what’s happening.

 

“Hodge, do you hear that?” Jace asks, and can see him faintly nod in response. “I was hoping it was another nightmare.”

 

Out of the shadows, a Silent Brother walks towards them - no, not walks, stumbles. “Please. Help us.” the Silent Brother says, before collapsing in front of Jace’s cell. There’s a dagger firmly in his back. Jesus fuck.

 

“Quick, grab his hand. The lock release on our cells can only be activated if he’s alive.” Jace says, grabbing one slowly-cooling hand and pressing it against the lock. His cell stays shut. Disappointment and horror sit heavy in his gut. “He’s gone.”

 

Someone screams from the way the Silent Brother came, and a figure comes around the corner. It’s Valentine, and Jace’s hands want to cover his soulmark flowers - they’re covered, they’re covered, _they’re covered_ \- as the sack of shit that Jace has to call father sneers at the corpse on the floor.

 

“An unfortunate loss, but he gave me no choice. He wouldn’t let it out of his hands.” Valentine lifts his hands, and the sharp steel of the soul sword glimmers under the firelight. Valentine draws the dagger from the corpse as a Circle member Jace doesn’t recognise moves the body out of sight, and two more drag that british guy from his trial in.

 

Jace is furious. Anger and hate and rage - rage at his situation, the needless murders, at the fact that the man who ruined his life is standing right in front of him - boils up and threatens to overflow. Jace tightens his grip on the bars. “Hello Jonathan. You see what these people do to you when I’m not around to protect you?”

 

 _Liar._ “No, I’m here ‘cause you made a son with demon blood.”

 

“Still so little appreciation after all I’ve done for you. You think it was easy, breaking in here to rescue you?” And that doesn’t sit well with Jace at all. The very concept of Valentine thinking about him makes him sick. “It took effort. I set up a demon attack on the Institute as a diversion.”

 

 _God._ Alec, Iz, Clary, his mum, they’re all going to die because Valentine couldn’t fucking let go?

 

“You did what?”  The British guy from before says.

 

Jace tenses. “No, you’re not here for me, you’re here for the soul sword.”

 

Valentine’s shoulders sag a little, and if Jace actually trusted him he’d think that Valentine was sad. “Son, you have two options. Life in prison at the hands of the Clave, or you can come and fight with me… and have purpose.”

 

The decision is easy enough, and Jace steps back. “I guess jumping off the boat wasn’t clear enough.”

 

Valentine sighs. “Then we’ll do it the hard way. Take him.” He gestures to the thugs holding the British guy - man he really needs to find out what this guy’s name is - and they drag him towards the lock on his cell. One of the thugs forces the Shadowhunter’s hand against the cell, and the door opens.

 

Hodge, ever the opportunist, has Valentine in a semi-chokehold, pressed hard against the bars, and as Jace walks out, Valentine swings his arm up, and Valentine’s dagger slides cleanly through Hodge’s forehead.

 

“Hodge.” Jace says, before sneaking the Soul Sword out of Valentine’s hands while he’s distracted. It sits heavy in his hand, a little heavy at the hilt, but still a strong weapon. As Hodge’s corpse crumples to the ground a fight begins. The British Shadowhunter seems to be handling the two thugs pretty well, so Jace immediately moves for two more who slink out of the shadows, and the Soul Sword easily slices through one stomach, before swinging up and blocking a blow from a second. Jace easily falls back into his old training, one step, two step, and the flicker of memory of Hodge leading him through his first few training sessions makes his heart skip a beat. Jace expertly stabs both of them in one swing, and as they crumple to the ground his vision tunnels, and his mind focuses on one enemy - Valentine.

 

Jace stalks towards Valentine, running on anger and the raw pain of a child who’s been abandoned too many times to count, and snarls as he moves to end it. Something sparks, and jace goes flying, the Soul Sword skittering from his grasp. As Jace’s vision clears, he can see Dot behind him, right hand glowing with a protection spell. He makes a silent promise to, somehow, help her too. Valentine walks forward, and picks up the Soul Sword. It looks wrong in his hands, like it immediately dulls when he touches it. “Thank you, Dorothea.” He says, and Dot’s mouth forms a half-snarl in response. “At least someone here understands the meaning of the word loyalty.” Jace moves, and Valentine swings the sword up and presses it against Jace’s neck.

 

“Go ahead.” Jace says, and a part of him which sounds suspiciously like Alec calls him a dumbass. “Kill me like you killed my falcon. Prove what kind of father you really are. What are you waiting for? Do it.”

 

There’s a moment where everything goes still. Valentine breaks the choking silence. “Take my son. Kill the other one.” A hand has a death grip on his shoulder, and Jace swiftly elbows the man behind him in the face. While he’s dazed, Jace grabs his head and twists. His neck snaps with a sickening crunch, and Jace spins at the sound of a portal opening.

 

“Jace! Get the sword!” The British Shadowhunter chokes out. Dot disappears. The Circle thug gains the upper hand, and a seraph blade inches closer to the Shadowhunter’s face. God dammit functioning moral compass. Jace moves, blindsiding the thug who doesn’t see it coming. It being the wall that Jace slams him into, enough force going into the blow that his nose is a little further into his face than before.

 

The portal closes.

 

“Well. I guess they were right about recklessness.” The British Shadowhunter says, and Jace spins to face him.

 

“You want me to let you die? Sorry buddy, but rule one of being a Shadowhunter is having a functioning moral compass, so shit like this doesn’t happen.” Jace moves to run his hand through his hair, but stops when he sees its covered in blood. Gross. He sighs. “We should get back to the Institute.”

 

“Agreed. I’ve been assigned there for three days and everything’s already gone to hell.”

 

 _What._ “Wanna run that by me again?” They make their way through the catacombs, and Jace avoids looking at the numerous unconscious - or dead.

 

“I’m the Head of the New York Institute.” That’s, well, _interesting_.

 

“And I’m Oscar Wilde, nice to meet you.”

 

“I’m not joking, Jace. I was assigned after the Mortal Cup was taken, and arrived sometime after your disappearance.” They take a turn down a pathway Jace is pretty sure didn’t exist before, and it seems a few shades brighter than the dim catacombs. He looks back, and sees a distinct line where the light ends.

 

“Alright, I’ll take it. What’s your name then, New Head of The Institute?”

 

“Victor. Victor Aldertree. I’d shake your hand but it’s dripping.”

 

“Do you have a way back to the Institute?”

 

“There’s a portal up ahead.” They walk a few more minutes, and sure enough the familiar shape of a portal comes into view. “Ready?” Jace nods, and he follows Victor through the portal, which drops them off near the training room.

 

It’s quiet. Too quiet. Just the sound of someone walking - not them, it’s too far away for it to be them - echoes through the abandoned building, and it sends a chill down Jace’s spine. They walk, and Jace sees Clary, eyes empty, staring into space, and Isabelle and Alec on the floor, Alec running his stele over a rapidly draining healing rune on Isabelle’s arm.

 

Someone bumps into Jace, and he notices that it’s Simon, but Simon’s also got flowers running across his face, half-hidden by makeup that he could never do. _What the hell happened_? Simon runs to Clary, and whispers to her slowly, and she begins to blink, and finally responds to his talking. Something loosens in his chest, and Jace drops to where Alec and Isabelle are. Her shirt is sticky at the shoulder with blood, and Jace can see worry and pain deep in Alec’s eyes.

 

Something violent and angry settles in Jace’s stomach, and on the memory of whatever happened here today, Jace swears to make Valentine pay.

 

It takes too much work to get Isabelle to stand, and the little gasps of pain she makes make Jace want to scour every inch of the planet and make Valentine suffer. When they get to the middle of the hallway, Alec raises an eyebrow at him, and Jace nods. He needs to get Clary. He walks back to the training room, and Victor’s gone, but Simon and Clary haven’t moved. Jace doesn’t want to break the tentative silence.

 

“Hey, Clary, come on, we gotta go see Isabelle.” Jace says, and Clary looks at him. Her face is red with tears and her hands red with blood.

 

“I can’t.” Her voice is rough and the last word catches on a half-formed sob.

 

“You can, you’re her soulmate.”

 

“And I stabbed her.” Jace’s eyes widen, and Clary looks at him properly. “I stabbed her, Jace. Right in the shoulder, that’s not going to heal properly. She’s never going to be able to fight with that arm, I’ve ruined everything.”

 

“There was a demon attack, right? And what you did saved her life, or stopped her from doing something terrible?” Jace asks, and Clary nods. “Then you did nothing wrong. Come on, Clary, she’ll want to see you.” He helps her up, Jace on her right and Simon on her left, and they walk her to the infirmary. There’s a few sniffles, and Jace feels Simon’s hand brush his shoulder as he wraps his arm around her. When they get to the infirmary, there’s a medic checking Isabelle’s shoulder, and a few other Shadowhunters being checked on. Victor’s in the corner, and he moves behind a curtain with a solemn look.

 

“I can’t do this to her.” Clary whispers, but it’s loud enough to catch Isabelle’s attention, and she brightens at the sight of Clary. Isabelle holds out her good arm, and Clary moves to take it, then sits beside her.

 

“Today has been a fucked up day.” Simon says, and Jace nods.

 

“Stabbing your soulmate, that’s gotta be tough.”

 

Simon looks at him. “Don’t you know?”

 

“Know what?”

 

“Well, over the past 24 hours of this shit of a day, a mundane died, there’s blood on the ceiling from one of these demon attacks, and Alec-”

 

“What happened with Alec?”

 

Simon sighs. “The demon, it possessed Alec. It fed off of anger, and I guess Alec was mad at Jocelyn for not even attempting to get to know you before trying to kill you, because it was so powerful that it made Alec kill Jocelyn.” Jace’s heart plummets, and he quickly scans the infirmary. Alec isn’t there.

 

“Fuck.”

 

“Go, I’ll make sure they’re okay.” Simon says, and Jace gives him a look of thanks before sprinting down the hall. He checks their rooms first, and almost leaves before spotting his clothes and his phone neatly placed at the edge of the bed. He changes out of the catacomb uniform and into old clothes, phone in his pocket, and the he runs. The archery range is empty, and so’s the library, so Jace races through the rest of the Institute, but it’s been at least a few hours before it hits him - the roof. As he opens the door at the top of the giant staircase that leads there, he can see Alec shooting arrows off of the roof, and the faint sparks of the arrows disintegrating as each shot reaches its limit.

 

“Alec.” Jace says, and Alec spins, bow at the ready.

 

“Move.” Alec’s voice is shaking.

 

“How long have you been up here?” There’s blood on his bowstring. It’s been too long.

 

“I’m glamoured, no-one can see me. Move.” The bow begins to shake.

 

“You can’t beat yourself up.”

 

“I’m not.” The bow shakes even more, and Jace’s shoulders collapse in a big sigh.

 

“Who are you talking to? It’s me. I’m your parabatai. I know exactly what you’re going through. I can feel it, right here.” Jace presses his hands against his stomach, roughly where the feeling of pain and misery and self-hatred and horror is seeping through the bond. “What happened with Jocelyn wasn’t your fault, that was all the demon.”

 

“Get out of the way.” Alec’s voice is wet with unshed tears, and Jace knows that he should stop pushing but, _fuck_ , Alec can’t beat himself up over this. It’s not his fault. It’s Jace’s.

 

“Hey. Same side, remember?” Alec drops the bow, and sighs, before something steels in his spine. “Come on, man, come back inside.”

 

“That’s the last place I wanna be.” Alec moves towards the balcony edge, and Jace follows.

 

“Alec, Valentine has the Soul Sword. He slaughtered the Silent Brothers. We need our best soldiers-”

 

“Stop pretending this never happened. I couldn’t save you from Valentine. I couldn’t save you from the City of Bones. I… She’s Clary’s mother. She’s your mother.” Alec turns to face the city, and looks down.

 

“Nobody blames you.”

 

“They should.” With that, Alec leaps off the balcony, and before Jace has a heart attack, he sees Alec’s Agility rune lit up. Jace sees Alec stick the landing, then run off into the distance. Fuck. Well, at least Jace kind of knows where he’s going.

 

Jace pulls out his phone, and hits a number. He waits for three rings before they pick up. “Wayland, what can I do for you? Need help breaking out of Shadowhunter Prison?” Magnus says, and Jace sighs.

 

“Are you sitting down?”

 

There’s a pause. “Why?”

 

“I’m about to tell you about some deep shit that’s fucked with Alec, because I’m pretty sure that he’s sprinting towards your place.”

 

“Is this to do with the demon attack?”

 

Jace blinks. “You know about that?”

 

“You’re talking to the resident demon expert of New York, of course I know. What does it have to do with Alexander? He’s not hurt, or I would have felt it.”

 

“Not physically. It possessed him and used him to kill Jocelyn Fairchild.”

 

Magnus curses in a language Jace doesn’t recognise, something heavy and weighed with power. “You said he’s coming here?”

 

“Well, the only two places that are safe for him that aren’t here are with Luke, and with you. And last I checked, Luke loves- loved Jocelyn.”

 

“I’ll keep an eye out. Thank you for the heads up.”

 

Something warm sits in Jace’s chest. “No problem.”

 

“One question, though. How did you get out of the catacombs?”

 

“The demon attack was a distraction by Valentine to get to me and the Soul Sword.”

 

“Ah. Well, at least that’s one good thing to come out of today.”

 

“Me getting out of prison?”

 

Magus huffs an empty laugh. “I have on good authority that Alexander was going to try his hand at a prison break if you didn’t manage to do it yourself.” A knock sounds from Magnus’ end, and Jace stiffens. “It isn’t him. I’ll text you when he gets here.”

 

“Thanks. I’ll let you go talk to your guest.” Magnus sounds like he’s going to say something, but Jace hangs up anyway. He stares at the city skyline for a few minutes, thoughts tumbling through his mind like loose socks in a dryer, before leaving the roof. The Institute is silent, but less silent, and the faint sound of footsteps echoes through the hallways. Jace follows the noise, and makes it into the entrance foyer-slash-ops centre as Victor begins talking.

 

Victor walks down the stairs into the crowd gathered at the bottom. “During the attack on the City of Bones, Jace Wayland fought bravely, and thus the Clave, in their wisdom, has exonerated him from all crimes.” Near a pillar, Jace sees Isabelle, a bandage on her shoulder and sadness in her eyes. He moves to stand beside her, and her fingers brush his as Victor walks past them, still speaking. “And the chief physician in Idris reports that Lydia Branwell’s condition continues to improve.” Jace looks at Isabelle, and the breath she lets out in response is heavy with grief.

 

Jace glances at the bandage on her shoulder, and frowning at the tiny spot of red in the centre. “Out of the infirmary in record time. Looking good.”

 

“I always look good.” She replies, and Jace bites his lower lip to stop him from snorting. Even with a life-changing injury, Isabelle’s well enough to wield her sarcasm in place of her whip. Something unknots inside Jace - Isabelle’s going to be fine. Her face shifts. “Why isn’t Alec here?” And hello question of the hour.

 

“He needs some space.” Jace replies, and Isabelle is about to question why his reply was so quick when Aldertree continues.

 

“We face a new threat. Valentine has the Mortal Cup, and now possesses the Soul Sword, two of the three Mortal Instruments. Our mission now is to find out what he plans to do with them and when.”

 

Jace must shift at the mention of the impending destruction of everything he cares about, because Isabelle looks at him. “You okay?”

 

“I’m fine.” He lies.”But, apparently no-one else is, judging by the way they’re all looking at me.” Familiar faces are filled with hatred and disgust, and it makes the knot re-tie in Jace’s stomach.

 

Guilt settles on Isabelle’s face, and Jace hates it. “Jace, I’m sorry for letting them take you to the City of Bones. I thought-”

 

“It’s all good, Izzy. You saved Alec’s life, and mine. I would’ve done the same thing.” He brushes his hand against hers, and squeezes in comfort. She squeezes back.

 

“Tomorrow night’s rite of passage will bring the total number of dead to 26 fallen Silent Brothers and three Shadowhunters.” Victor says, and the weight of the events of today fullt hits Jace. So many dead, all for greed and power. “Take this time to grieve, and plan for what lies ahead. Your orders will follow.” At the pseudo-dismissal, everyone scatters, discussion appearing in smatterings. Isabelle moves, and hisses, hand flying to her shoulder.

 

“Your shoulder still hurts, huh?”

 

“A little stiff. But don’t worry about me, keep an eye on Clary.”

 

Jace raises an eyebrow. “You’re not going to?”

 

Isabelle shakes her head. “I can see it in her eyes, every time she looks at me she feels guilty. And she has nothing to feel guilty about, but maybe you can talk her into not beating herself up.”

 

Jace shakes his head. “You should ask Simon to do that.”

 

Isabelle frowns. “Simon’s busy with Raphael after some Shadowhunter attacked him with a concentrated UV laser. Don’t you know?”

 

Jace curses, and rubs his hands over his face. “Are they-”

 

“Magnus has it sorted. Raphael’s all healed, they’re just waiting for the flowers to fade on Simon. But, y’know, he doesn’t want to leave him unless it’s super important - he almost didn’t come when Clary rang after Jocelyn died.”

 

“So that’s how he knew so much.” Isabelle nods, then rubs her shoulder again. “If that keeps bothering you, go back to a healer, or, better yet, go see Magnus. He’s probably got good recommendations for Warlock healers.” Isabelle nods, before looking at him.

 

“You going to make sure Clary’s okay?”

 

Jace smiles, and rests a hand on Isabelle’s good shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she’s okay. Go get yourself sorted out, alright?” Isabelle smiles a weak smile, and walks away. Jace sighs, and the weight of today digs further into his back as he walks down a few halls to a room nobody ever wants to be in.

 

Nobody really knows what to call this room - they all know what it’s used for, but the whole naming of the place means that the concept of losing everyone you care for in an instant becomes a terrifying reality - but everybody knows where it is, tucked away in a shadowy corner with nothing but candles and a mural that would be called beautiful if it was in a place other than here. It’s crowded with three Shadowhunter bodies underneath white sheets and rows of Silent brothers. There’s one Silent Brother in the room, and even through all the body modification Jace can see the grief rolling off him in waves.

 

As for the Shadowhunters, they are unaccompanied, aside from Jocelyn, whose face is uncovered so Clary can see it. Her artist hands brush over her mother’s face and hair, and it hits Jace like a punch to the face that Clary really shouldn’t be here. She wasn’t raised to fight, she can’t name the fifteen weaknesses of European vampires off the top of her head, nor can she dual wield anything bigger than a paintbrush. She doesn’t fit in their world, and it makes it a whole lot worse.

 

She’s talking - maybe to herself, maybe to her mother - and Jace doesn’t want to interrupt but he made a promise to Iz and he’s not going back on one of those. “Hey.” He says, and she looks up at him. “You okay?”

 

“I’d be a lot better if people quit speaking in quiet voices and telling me it’s okay to grieve.” Jace almost wants to laugh - it’s in moments like these when he can really see why the Angels bound Clary and Isabelle together - but instead he bites it back.

 

“Fair enough.”

 

“I don’t know why. I just don’t… feel much of anything right now. Emotions cloud judgement, right?”

 

Jace sighs. “And a lack of emotions makes it worse. Clary, I have spent my whole life fighting my emotions. Look where it landed me.” Jace’s traitor brain starts rattling off the long list of faults in his head; an inability to properly tell his family how much they mean to him, an inability to trust, an inability to open up, an inability to look at his _goddamn soulmarks_ -

 

Clary makes a soft noise, and reaches for Jace. “You just lost your mom too. What do you feel?”

 

Jace wants to reply like the sarcastic asshole he is, but instead the truth falls out. “I don’t know. I thought I’d be able to get to know her. And she’d get more time to know me… as more than just an experiment gone wrong. I… I just figured we’d get more time.” He looks down at Jocelyn- Jocelyn’s corpse, tracing over her eyes and nose and jaw and ears and tears sting in his eyes. His hand falls out of his pocket and brushes against a wayward strand of hair. Clary sniffles and leaves.

 

Jace doesn’t have the heart to follow her.

 

He stands there, staring down at the woman who brought him into the world for Raziel knows how long, before someone comes in saying Aldertree wants to see him. He sighs a heady sigh, and walks towards the Head’s office. It’s unnerving, the fact that he knows that his mot- that Maryse isn’t going to be in that room, with her multipurpose smile and a look of pride in her eyes.

 

He walks through the open door, and Victor is already at his desk. “You wanted to see me?”

 

Victor looks up from his tablet, and a few things twitch on his face that make Jace a little on edge. “Please. Have a seat.” Jace sits nonetheless. “You and I haven’t had a chance to talk about the City of Bones.” Oh no.

 

“Just doing what I was trained to do.”

 

“That’s how it may appear to the Clave, but what I saw was an unprepared soldier allowing a deranged criminal to make off with one of the Mortal Instruments.” Oh, you slick sonofabitch.

 

“Wait, wait. I.. I saved you. Would you prefer that I let you die?”

 

“That’s precisely what you should have done. I’d gladly have given my life to protect the Sword… Just like the Silent Brothers did. Now, countless more soldiers will die trying to reclaim it. And their blood will be on your hands.” Victor’s staring right at him, and it makes Jace feel like a disciplined child, because he’s in Maryse’s office and how many times did she lecture him for doing dumb shit in this very room?

 

“I’ll do whatever I can to get it back.”

 

“I’m afraid your words are too late. I’m sending a team to the Adamant Citadel to see what the Iron Sisters know about the sword.”

 

Jace stands. “Great. I’ll run point, draw up a mission.”

 

Victor raises one meticulously groomed eyebrow as he steps forward. “A soldier without discipline is poison to his entire squad. You’re hereby banned from field duty.” With that, he turns and walks back behind his desk, picking up his tablet and ignoring Jace, not even looking as he walks out.

 

Something like fury but not fury itself claws its way out of the cavern Jace normally throws his emotions in and takes over. Every noise is a pain to hear, every movement powered by anger, and it takes his phone buzzing to snap Jace out of it. He pulls out his phone, and the fury dissipates.

 

                                                            MAGNUS BANE

                                                                      Alexander is with me. He’s okay. May stay the night. M

 

He sighs, and rubs his hands against his face. “Thank the Angel.” He whispers, and slips through the gaps in the clusters of mourning shadowhunters to get to his room. He shuts the door behind him, and falls into a fitful sleep filled with bloody gardens and the sound of a woman screaming.

 

Jace wakes when he falls off the bed, tangled in his sheet and blankets and a plea tangled between his teeth. He sighs, and tugs at the coverings, slowly extracting himself from the mess. When he does, he sits on the floor, head pressed against his knees, and allows one painful sob to rip out of his chest, before shoving the emotion away.

  


He gets up and staggers into the bathroom he shares with Alec - who’s still with Magnus, judging by the eerie silence next door. Jace turns the tap on, then thrusts his face under the running water, letting the last remnants of fear wash down the drain. The ice-cold water gets in his hair and sticks to his eyelashes and crips down his throat as he breathes in deeply.

 

He closes the tap. It drips a little. Jace stands to his full height, and runs his hands through his hair. It flops over his forehead. Something creaks in the roof. The sound of his phone drags him out of the bathroom, and he mindlessly moves towards it, throwing the blankets back onto the bed as he goes.

 

The screen is lit up with a text:

 

                                                            MAGNUS BANE

                                                                        Alexander is heading back. Seems better. Keep an eye on him. M

 

A knot Jace didn’t know was there loosens in the pit of his stomach, before immediately retying itself at Magnus’ second message:

 

                                                                         Keep an eye on Clarissa.

 

What the fuck does that mean? Jace considers sending Magnus a series of question marks in response, but also remembers the noise he initially thought was the roof. Jace slips his phone into his pocket, and darts into the hallway. It’s early, too early, and the hallways are abandoned, and Jace thinks he’s losing it before his eyes dart to the flash of red slipping behind a doorway. He follows Clary to The Room, and frowns as he spots a pair of scissors in her hand. What is she doing? Clary carefully pulls out a section of Jocelyn’s hair, and cuts it.

 

Oh.

 

No.

 

“What are you doing?” He says, and she starts before composing herself.

 

“Nothing.” She moves to walk away, but Jace moves to block her.

 

“Hey. What is that for?” He asks, and the last thing he wanted to hear comes out of her mouth.

 

“I went to see a warlock in Park Slope. Her name’s Iris Rouse and she--”

 

“Please, please tell me you’re not thinking about doing what I think-”

 

“I can bring my mom back, Jace. Our mom.” And, by the Angel, the thought is nice, the thought of her opening her eyes and being perfectly fine and wanting to spend time with Jace and realising he’s not a monster, but the risks of necromancy are too many and he doesn’t want to be the one to hurt Clary but it looks like that’s how the day’s going to go.

 

“You can’t, Clary.”

 

“She wasn’t supposed to die, Jace. it was a mistake. A freak demon attack. I… I want more time with her.”

 

“So do I. But you never know what you’re gonna get back. There are always risks. You could very well conjure a demon in Jocelyn’s form.”

 

“You said ‘could’. She could also come back he same, right?” God, Clary’s hope is indestructible. Jace has to be the asshole to snuff it out.

 

“Look, I know you want her back. But you have to trust me, Clary. You don’t bring people back from the dead. You don’t get them back from the dead.” He places one hand on her shoulder. “She’s gone, Clary. Let her rest easy, don’t try to bring her back.”

 

“But I miss her. I miss her so much.” Tears threaten to spill over in Clary’s eyes, and Jace pulls her into a hug.

 

“I know, Clary, I know. I miss her too.” Clary’s shoulders start to shake, and as she sobs into his shirt, Jace comes to the realisation that this is the first time she’s been emotionally raw with him without Isabelle as someone to rest between them, a translator rewording Jace’s emotional inadequacy to Clary’s emotional awareness and her blind optimism to his pessimism.

 

This is going to be hard.

 

Clary shakes a little bit more before murmuring something into Jace’s stomach. She moves her head and repeats herself. “You remind me of her, sometimes.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah. Before we found her, you’d have this look on your face whenever you’d talk to Alec or Iz and it’d remind me of how my mom look- looked at Simon, like she was trying to say ‘you’re my family and that’s the end of that discussion’ without saying a word. That’s why I knew I could trust you, because you cared for somebody who wasn’t your blood family but considered them close enough to be.” She said, and Jace stiffened.

 

“Blood of the bowl.”

 

“Stop avoiding talking about your feelings.” Dammit, she’s good. She squeezes him once before pulling away, wiping at her face with her hands. She blinks up at him, and rubs her shoulder, in the same place that she stabbed Isabelle. Jace doesn’t need to see her shoulder to know that orchids are gathered over the joint.

 

“Look who’s talking. Have you spoken to Iz at all?” Clary looks down, and Jace sighs. “She’s glad you stabbed her, dumbass. You saved her life, and Alec’s life, and everyone who was in, like, a five mile radius of Magnus at the time. Yes, she’s going to need to do a few rounds of physio and probably won’t be in the field for a while, but she’s okay. She’s walking, she’s talking, she’s missing the shit out of you.”

 

“How can she miss me when I hurt her?”

 

“Did you hear a single word I just said. She doesn’t blame you.”

 

“She should! I stabbed her!” Clary’s voice is a little too loud for the heavy blanket of grief shrouding the Institute, but it’s refreshing to see her focusing on something which isn’t necromancy.

 

“Did I ever tell you that once I stabbed Alec? It was on accident, obviously, but my grip on my dagger slipped and it landed right in his leg. He was fine, and you can’t tell that I accidentally stabbed him, but every so often he wears shorts and I can see the little scar he’s got from the stitches and I feel guilty about it.” Clary’s anger flickers, and understanding takes its place.

 

“Oh.”

 

“I felt so bad about it, I didn’t talk to him for like a week. Want to know what happened? He found me in the library, and hit me with his crutches while telling me that it wasn’t my fault.” Clary blurts out a laugh. “And then, somehow, he persuaded me to help him with his exercises to get the movement back in his leg. You can’t be angry with someone and ask them to help you lose your limp.”

 

“But you’re parabatai, we’re soulmates.”

 

“That means it’s going to take a lot less time for her patience to run out.” Jace grabs her shoulders, and looks her in the eyes. “I know you feel guilty, but she’s okay, and you need to talk to her before she comes at you with whatever medical equipment the healers gave her.” Clary huffs a wet laugh and nods.

 

“Yeah, yeah I do.” Clary clenches her fists, and lifts one hand up. “You should take this. Mom deserves to rest peacefully.” The fist unfurls, revealing the bright red strands of hair. Jace takes them - they’re soft and a part of him wonders what it would be like to feel these strands on his face as he hugs her - and Clary moves her hand away. “I’m going to go see Iz, and them I’m going to go see Iris and see if she can make a healing potion for her, because I can’t just sit there and do nothing.”

 

“Good, good, we’ll go together.” Jace looks down at the hair in his hand. But first… He moves around Clary and places the strands under the sheet covering Jocelyn’s body. He sighs, and turns around to face Clary. “Come on, she’s probably in the training room.”

 

“But you said she’d be out of the field.” Jace wings an arm around Cl- around his sister, and leads her out of the room. The halls are a little crowded, but everyone is quiet, flecks of white marking their usually black attire.

 

“Yeah, but she’s stubborn as hell and you being there will stop her from doing any more damage.” Jace stops, and squints. Isabelle is sneaking through the crowd in workout gear, and Jace knows that her usual yoga attire is balloon pants and a tank which says ‘I flexed and the arms fell off’. “See in the corner?”

 

Clary follows his line of sight, and her face changes. “Dammit, Iz.” she says, before weaving through the crowd and following Isabelle into the training room, with Jace close behind. Clary places her hands on her hips, and frowns. “What are you doing?” She asks, and the sudden noise makes Isabelle jump and knock over the staffs neatly displayed in the corner.

 

“Nothing.” Isabelle lies, and Jace raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms. Isabelle sighs. “I’m just moving my arm so it doesn’t get stiff, that’s all.”

 

“And I’m the chosen one.” Clary mutters, using all of her five foot five frame to stalk towards Isabelle. “You are going to ruin your shoulder if you push it too far too soon. I’ve done enough damage; stop trying to prove yourself as a decent Shadowhunter when you’re injured.”

 

Isabelle and Clary stare at each other for a moment, and Isabelle’s shoulders relax as she sighs. “I hate feeling useless.”

 

Clary’s shoulders collapse, and with a pained noise she fits herself in Isabelle’s arms. “I hate that I did this to you.”

 

“You stopped me from hurting you both.”

 

Jace’s phone buzzes against his leg, and it distracts him from the discussion in front of him.

 

                                                            ALEC

                                                                  I’m out the front. Can we talk?

 

“I’ll be right back. No mucking around on that shoulder, Iz.” He gives her a pointed look, and she flashes him a smile that he knows means ‘I don’t give a flying fuck’. He waves as he leaves, mind sifting through the numerous things Alec could want to talk about. Jocelyn’s death, for one, absolutely for one, and Jace really doesn’t want to have the ‘why necromancy is a bad idea’ talk again today.

 

He walks through the ops centre and out the door without any trouble, but almost runs into Alec, who’s sitting just outside the door, legs outstretched. “You fucking asshole, I could have landed on my face!” Jace half laughs, but when it gets no response he sits right next to him, bodies pressed against each other. There’s two bags next to Alec, one a white plastic with a container inside, and the other brown paper and smelling faintly of yeasted dough and berries. Jace reaches over and opens the paper one.

 

Inside are two perfectly shaped bagels, deep blue with the blueberries mixed in the dough by Semira, the little old Jewish lady who still runs the bakery her sons now supply the muscle for. Jace doesn’t need to look to know that the small container in the plastic bag is fresh cream cheese from the Italian deli next door to Semira’s little shop. Both items are a luxury in the eyes of the Institute, saved solely for special occasions or bad days. And the past twenty four hours have been a hell of a day. Wordlessly, Jace hunts through both bags for a knife, and finds one taped to the cream cheese. He cuts them both, still warm from the oven and fragrant like he’s been buried in a pile of berries, and smears the fresh cheese onto each slice. One whole bagel goes in Alec’s hands, the other straight into Jace’s mouth.

 

Jace swallows his first bite, and stares at Alec. “if you’re not gonna eat it, I’ll tell Iz to come ou-”

 

“I killed your mom. I remember killing your mom.” Alec whispers, and Jace sighs.

 

“You didn’t do shit. If you want to play the blame game, my dad killed my mom in cold goddamn blood, like an asshole.”

 

“I remember, though. I was, I don’t know, it was like a dream. I was walking through the hallway, and then it was like a haze went over me, and all I could feel was anger and pain, and it didn’t really have a target, y’know? It was just this ball of fury and I had to get it out and then Jocelyn walked up to me- fuck, she probably just wanted to talk - and the demon just, fuck-” The bagel slips into Alec’s lap as his head falls in his hands, and Jace presses himself further into Alec.

 

“It’s okay. What happens over bagels, remember?” Alec sniffles, and it sends a pang through Jace’s chest.

 

“I remember she wanted to talk about you. That’s the last thing she ever said, and I-the demon - fuck, she got her heart ripped out because of it. Because she tried to connect with the one person who probably knew her son best.” Jace rubs a hand along Alec’s back. “I took her away from you-”

 

“You cut that out. Valentine is the reason we’re sitting here at 6am eating bagels, and he’s the reason that I had no chance to know my mom, and vice versa.”

 

“But I can fix it.” Jace meets Alec’s eyes, and immediately panics.

 

“I think the fuck not. I already had the ‘necromancy is bad’ talk today, I am not doing that again!”

 

Alec frowns in confusion. “Wait, again?”

 

“Clary had the same idea.”

 

“I think it’s a good idea.”

 

“It is a terrible idea and you know it. Use your energy and your need to make things right and help Iz! She’s the one that got stabbed, and I found her this morning trying to train like everything was fine!” Jace feels bad that he’s yelling, but he’s sick and tired of people thinking that necromancy is an actual viable option in the grand scheme of things.

 

“Really?”

 

“Yes, I did. I sicced Clary on her because they need to sort stuff out, and I guess we all need to spend an hour sorting out our emotions because you’re meant to be the logical one, Alec, what part of you can possibly justify necromancy?”

 

Alec sighs, and he looks down at his bagel, before taking a bite. “I just, this whole thing fucking sucks man.”

 

Jace snorts. “I know. Like, it hit me yesterday that we’re kids. Clary’s meant to be in college, like, I mean right now she’s meant to be in college, but instead she’s in the middle of a war our father started and we’re having to go along with it.”

 

Alec looks at him. “You said our father.”

 

“Yeah, it wasn’t too hard to consider her blood family when she kind of already was, y’know, with the whole being Iz’s soulmate thing.” Jace replies, before taking an overly large bite of his bagel. They sit in silence, eating the bagels, and Jace is wiping cream cheese off of his fingers when the door swings open to reveal Clary. “Hey you.” Jace says from his seat, and Clary starts.

 

“Oh, that’s where you went. Hi, Alec, how are you feeling?” Alec shrugs, playing with a loose thread. Clarys shoulders sag, and she fiddles with her her pant pocket. “I’m going to go see Iris about any healing magic for Iz, maybe there’s something she can do that the healers can’t.”

 

“Want someone to come with you?” Jace says, and Clary shrugs.

 

“I don’t know, don’t come with me if there’s stuff you ne-”

 

“I’ll come.” Alec meets her eyes for the first time in days, and Clary smiles.

 

“Thanks Alec, that means a lot to me. Is it okay if we head off now?” Alec gets up, handing the bagel bag to Jace.

 

“Text me when you get there, yeah?” Jace says, and Alec nods as they walk off. Jace watches them turn the corner and disappear out of sight, before stretching and standing up. He should probably check on Isabelle. He walks back inside, artfully throwing the bags into the bin by the door. He doesn’t have to look for long to find Isabelle - she walks right past him, lost in thought. He grabs her arm, and immediately regrets it when her fist lands right in his face.

 

“Shit! Jace! I’m so sorry!” She says, and Jace snickers through the pain because, okay, he should know better, this has happened before.

 

“It’s fine.” He says, and she sighs. “Clary’s gone to check in with this warlock about getting something for your shoulder, so it’s just you and me today.”

 

“Don’t you have a mission?” Isabelle asks, and Jace umms and ahhs until she threatens to punch him again. “Want me to readjust your nose, Jace?”

 

“I got benched.” He says, and Isabelle stops. She gapes a few times, mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out. She then grabs Jace’s arm and pulls him towards the training room. When they get there, she picks up four short staffs, and throws two at him.

 

“Ready?” She asks, and he nods. He really shouldn’t be doing this, what with her bad shoulder and all, but she did just punch him in the face accidentally, so she seems fine. Isabelle moves into her starting position, and Jace falls into the same one. His muscles at the back of his leg begin to protest, and its a few breaths before Isabelle launches herself at him, and they both fall into old movements. The sound of the staffs hitting each other is therapeutic, and Jace chuckles as she almost gets him, but he ducks just in time and rolls out of the way. “Aldertree can’t bench you.” She says as Jace takes a moment to breathe.

 

“He already did.” He charges at her, and she expertly deflects his attacks. He’s almost got her cornered, but she leaps out of the way at the last second.

 

“Did Alec come home?”

 

“Yeah. He’s still taking this really hard, but he’s gone with Clary to talk with that warlock, so hopefully between her and Magnus we can get it through to him that it isn’t his fault. How’d the chat with Clary go?” They both walk slowly, staffs at the ready.

 

“Could have been better. There was yelling, there were tears, but we got stuff out and I think we’re going to be okay. Did you know that she was going to try necromancy?”

 

“Unfortunately, that makes two out of four of my siblings, so-”

 

“Alec was going to try it too?”

 

“Guilt makes you do dumb shit.” Jace swings around a pole, then stops. Isabelle should be standing right in front of him.

 

“Behind you.” She says from behind him, and Jace spins around just in time to block her blow. They dart between the pillars, staffs colliding with an unspoken beat, but Jace sees an opening and he takes it, slamming Isabelle into a pillar and trapping her against it.

 

“Come on, Iz, this is way too easy.”

 

“Don’t get cocky.” She says, and he concedes, letting her up. They move back into position, and start again. One-two-one-two go the staffs, and Jace finds himself actually having to work for his offence and defense. He sees an opening, but it closes too quickly for him to use it. Again and again, he tries to gain the upper hand, but she’s too fast. And there it is, an opening.

 

Isabelle’s on the shorter side when it comes to Shadowhunters - she’s not short like Clary, but she’s nowhere near Alec’s height and never will be - so she’s spent most of the time aiming at Jace torso and above, leaving her legs wide open. Jace drops to the floor and knocks her legs out from underneath her. Isabelle catches herself in a pushup just in time, but grunts and collapses, hand flying to the wound. “It’s still bugging you? Look, if the runes aren’t healing it you need to get it fixed.”

 

“I’ll see a medic later, relax.” Isabelle snaps, and Jace frowns.

 

“Might want to see them now, actually. They’re sending a team to the Iron Sisters right after the Rite of Mourning.” Isabelle immediately lights up, and Jace smiles.

 

“Shut up.”

 

“You always wanted to be an Iron Sister when you were a kid, huh?” Jace says, and he can see eleven-year-old Isabelle again, running around the Institute with books filled with information about the Iron Sisters and their training and weapons and skills.

 

“Yeah, until I realised I had to swear off boys.” Isabelle smiles, then stops. “Wait. What’s the Iron Sister ruling on lesbians?”

 

Jace laughs, picking up Isabelle’s staffs, which had rolled away when she fell. “If you heal up in time, you can ask them yourself.  I don’t know how effective the stuff Alec and Clary are going to bring back is, so getting some Shadowhunter help might be a good idea, because Aldertree isn’t going to let you go anywhere with that wound on your back.”

 

And there’s grown up Isabelle again, with a frown on her face and a need to prove herself. “Aldertree doesn’t need to know.” She turns away, and Jace has an idea.

 

“Iz.” He calls, and throws a staff. She spins to catch it, but grunts in pain as her arm stretches, and the staff clatters to the ground. There’s a look of terror on her face, and Jace snatches the staff on the way over to her. “Please, go get it checked out. I don’t want you getting hurt trying to prove yourself. If you don’t want to do anything inside the Institute, give Magnus a call, he probably knows some incredible healers. The last thing we need is another one of us sidelined, okay?” He pats her shoulder, and she sighs.

 

“Fine. But I’ll see what Clary and Alec come back with first, no need to waste Magnus’ time if they already have a thing.”

 

“Hey, second opinion, it could be helpful.” Iz smiles, and nods.

 

“I’ll think about it. Calling Magnus, that is, not getting help. Want to come with me to Aldertree? I heard he’s got the best healing hands in the Institute.”

 

“Wait, he’s a medic?” Jace puts the staffs away, and Isabelle leads him through the Institute.

 

She shrugs. “Apparently, according to the medics I was talking to last night.”

 

“Damn, I didn’t see that coming. How does a British medic end up the leader of the Brooklyn Institute?”

 

That particular question seems to have an answer, because Isabelle sighs. “Apparently Dad requested that he transfer in after Hodge got Lydia.” And, oh, right, they might not know that Hodge died trying to stop Valentine - well, it could be argued that Hodge was trying to save him, but the thought of someone outside his close group of family giving a damn about him made him uneasy.

 

“Hey, Iz about Ho-”

 

“Alec and I saw his body being brought in, it’s okay.” And, man, it’s a little bit of a relief, because Jace probably can’t handle being the bearer of bad news for, what, the fourth time in the past twelve hours?

 

“He was in the cell next to mine, and it was so weird because he died trying to stop Valentine and I can’t help but think… maybe he was desperate.” Jace says, and Isabelle stops. She looks around, before pulling Jace into an empty room. There’s a few desks, some chairs, but nothing to really mark what this room actually is.

 

Isabelle pulls out two chairs and slides one over to Jace, before sitting on the other. “Talk to me.” Jace throws himself into the chair, and it creaks in anger.

 

Jace runs his hands through his hair, trying to figure out how to start talking. “Okay, I’m not trying to excuse his whole treason thing, but Hodge hadn’t seen the sun in over eighteen years. Wouldn’t you do something a little crazy just to feel the sun? You get grumpy if it rains for too long, imagine waiting eighteen years for sunlight.” Isabelle nodded along. “Like, he wasn’t a bad guy, I guess, he kind of got drawn into it and was a pretty impressionable kid, maybe, I don’t know, but the fact that he tried to take Valentine out, and actually seemed sorry for betraying everyone, it’s confusing the hell out of me.”

 

“People are complicated. Their actions won’t make sense, but, maybe, in time what Hodge did will make sense. Or, be less confusing.” Isabelle is playing with a loose thread on her workout gear, and sighs. She rubs her hands against her face, and they stay in that room, sitting across from each other, weight of the world almost crushing them. “Let’s go see Victor before everyone decides to go to him with their problems.” Isabelle goes to move, but she’s stopped when her phone buzzes. She pulls it out, and smiles. “Clary and Alec made it to Iris’. Apparently she thought they were dating?”

 

Jace snorts. “What did they say?”

 

“Apparently Clary immediately responded with ‘I’m fucking his sister’.” The laugh rips its way through Jace’s throat and leaves him curled into a ball, shaking with aftershocks. Isabelle’s phone trills again. “Oh, hey, Alec made a friend. Apparently her name is Madzie and she has gills and seems to be appealing to his inner parental instincts.”

 

“I’m not breaking him out of warlock prison if he kidnaps her.”

 

“I feel like Magnus would have it covered, to be honest.” Jace laughs a sharp laugh, and Isabelle almost joins him when she winces.

 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, as her hands fly to her side.

 

She looks up at him, eyes wide. “Something’s wrong with Clary.” They move in sync, rushing out the door and grabbing whatever’s in reach on the way out.

 

“Wait- Shit, where the fuck is Iris?” Jace says, fumbling for his phone, rushing through the Institute Database. Isabelle activates a few runes in the corner of his eye, breathing deeply as her fingernails dig into her skin. The address appears on Jace’s phone, and he slips it into his pocket as his stele draws familiar runes.

 

“How far?”

 

“Eight blocks by the crow. Follow my lead?” Jace leans down, and Isabelle follows suit. One breath, two, and they run. The city flies behind them, and Jace doesn’t really need to look at where he’s going because he knows these streets like the back of his hand. They dart along fences and climb over a cement mixer, dive between crowds of people and end up in front of Iris’ place in a time that Jace would find impressive if he weren’t terrified for his brother and sister.

 

Isabelle swings her leg, and the lock shatters under her heel, and the force of the kick sends the door swinging open just as Alec flies into a wall, landing on the floor with a heavy thud and a sharp pain to Jace’s face. Iris is on the landing a floor up, a three year-old with a hell of a pout next to her. “Hey!” Isabelle yells, whip unfurling from its bracelet form.

 

“”Who are you?” Iris asks, and Jace unsheathes his seraph blade.

 

“We’re their family, jerkbutt. Wanna come down here so I can kick your butt?” Isabelle says, still very menacing even though her usual intimidations have been reduced to ‘jerkbutt’ for the sake of the kid.

 

Iris smirks, walking down the stairs. Offensive magic sparks around her fingertips, and Alec shifts from his spot on the floor. Jace can see him reaching around, and then the familiar movement of nocking an arrow. “I don’t think you understand, Shadowhunters, but I had a deal with that red headed brat and I won’t let you ruin an opportunity.”  She takes one step, two, and the arrow goes flying past her face, causing her to stumble. The lights near her hand go out, and Jace moves.

 

He ducks as she swings at him, narrowly missing being burned alive by whatever spell sits on her fingers. He feels rather than sees Isabelle help Alec up, and Jace elbows the back of Iris’ knee. She falls, and Jace swiftly presses his blade to her throat

 

“Where the hell is Clary?” He snarls, and he feels the press of her hand against his stomach a fraction too late, because he then goes flying, hitting the wall above the still open door and landing with a thud on the carpet.

 

Iris gets up, throwing another blast of magic at Isabelle and Alec. The three year old peeks out from her spot behind one of the ballisters, brightly-coloured scarf flapping as she moves. Alec shifts, and Iris throws a ball of magic which hits him square in the back. Alec grunts, and Jace hisses as the pain runs across his back.

 

“Nana, no!” Everyone stills, and Jace bites back a laugh at the three year old, who’s standing at the top of the steps, hands on hips. “Nana, no.” She repeats, and Iris sighs.

 

“Madzie, these are very bad people, they want to hurt me.” Iris says, voice honey-sweet.

 

“No.” And Madzie doesn’t care about how many persuasion spells are in Iris’ voice. Iris scowls, and walks up the stairs.

 

“Honey, listen. They’re bad, and we need to leave.” The familiar _whoosh_ of a portal sounds, and Jace rushes to get up, but it’s no use. Iris is halfway through the portal when his head stops spinning, and she smirks as it flashes shut. A dagger imbeds itself in the wall where Iris’ head was.

 

“We need to find Clary. Now.” Isabelle says, all sense of self gone.She closes her eyes, and breathes. The seconds tick by like hours, each one longer than the last. Isabelle’s eyes fly open, and she sprints towards a closed door. She pushes her good shoulder forward, and the door snaps off a hinge as she pushes through. “Clary? Babe?” She calls, running down flight after flight of stairs. “Clary!”

 

They stop.

 

They wait.

 

The sound of faint screaming echoes in the distance.

 

“Clary!” Isabelle screams, before sprinting down the lone corridor. The screaming is getting louder, pleas for help becoming more audible. The sinking feeling Jace has had the entire time grows with every step.

 

There’s a metal door up ahead, and Isabelle pulls out here stele to draw every single variation of the unlocking rune that she knows. None of them work, but the door glows a heady red after they’ve all faded away. Alec curses. “Blood magic. Someone needs to sacrifi-” Isabelle interrupts him by slicing her hand open and pressing it against the lock.

 

It clicks open.

 

Isabelle throws the door open just as a bright light appears, almost blinding in its intensity. Through his fingers, Jace can see what appears to be a demon shriveling under the light, twisting and turning and screeching in pain.

 

The light flickers out. What remains of the demon is smoking.

 

Clary is standing in the middle of the room, quiet and still.

 

Isabelle walks up to her the way one walks up to a scared child, and Clary folds into the gaps in Isabelle’s arms, eyes screwing shut as if to block the events of the past 48 hours.

 

Fatigue hits Jace like a truck, and on reflex he reignites the stamina rune. The rush wakes him up in time to stop him from yawning, but it doesn’t wake him up in time to stop the yawn from becoming that weird thing which makes his jaw twitch. Alec looks at him, concerned, and Jace brushes it off by drawing attention to the fresh cut along Alec’s hairline. “Magnus is going to want to fix that.”

 

Alec shrugs, but the side of his mouth twitches. “At least Clary is safe. It could have been a lot worse.” The faint sound of Isabelle’s voice whispering comfort flitters through the prison, and Jace tugs Alec back through the door to give them some privacy.

 

“So, what exactly happened?”

 

Alec runs his hands through his hair. “So I met the kid - Madzie, absolutely adorable, also really obsessed with my ru-”

 

“Getting distracted.” Alec huffs a laugh.

 

“Sorry. So I was talking to the kid, and I asked about where she lived and stuff, and she said that she lived upstairs, on that landing, and she wanted to show me her shark toy. So I went to go up there, and, like, I could feel something was wrong, so I knocked on a door and it was opened by this very pregnant woman. I asked her what was going on, because this was so weird, and she didn’t know anything. Not even her own name.”

 

Dread settles in Jace’s stomach. “Don’t tell me it’s what I think it is.”

 

Alec frowns. “I think it is.”

 

“Fuck.”

 

“I should call Magnus - he needs to know.” Alec takes his phone out, and stares at it.

 

“Go, I can be big brother.” Alec nods, and walks away while unlocking his phone. The faint sound of conversation follows Alec up the stairs, and Jace steels himself as Isabelle comes round the corner with Clary wrapped in her arms. “Hey, how are you doing?”

 

“That fucker wanted me to get pregnant with a warlock baby.” Clary deadpans, and the inhale of breath stings against Jace’s teeth. The urge to stomp all over the demon’s ashes sitting at the back of his mind move immediately to the thing he needs to do right now, but his need to comfort his sisters beats it back with a stick.

 

“Good thing that weird glowy shit showed up, huh?” Jace says, and Clary and Isabelle look at each other with an expression Jace knows too well. “What don’t I know?”

 

“That glowy shit was me.”

 

“And I’m the Queen of England.”

 

“Jace, really?” Isabelle huffs, but Clary’s shoulder jolt with laughter.

 

“No, Jace, seriously. In my head the image of this rune appeared, so I drew it with the spare stele I keep in my sock, and it made sunlight appear out of nowhere!” Clary’s eyes were bright, and Jace almost didn’t believe her, but then again he was standing there when the sunlight hit the demon, and there were no windows or sources of sunlight, and even if there was, they were far below ground. There was no way that sunlight could get here normally, so, by process of elimination, Clary had to be the source.

 

But, then again… “There is literally no such thing as a Sunlight rune and you’re trying to tell me it popped into your head.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Clary, that’s kinda nuts.”

 

“My best friend is a vampire dating another vampire, and their main dilemma is how to celebrate Jewish and Christian holidays without annoying their respective living families. I’m the leading lady in a shitty young adult book! Don’t tell me what’s crazy!”

 

Isabelle snorts. “Does that make me the love interest?”

 

Clary looks back at her soulmate, and boops Isabelle’s chicken pox scar. “Thankfully, yes.”

 

Jace is about to speak when something makes Isabelle’s face change, understanding and the realisation of a pun dawning on her face. “Holy shit, babe.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You made sunlight shoot out of your hand.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Sun lesbian.” Clary loses it, and her laughter bounces across the walls and pushes the fear and horror of the room they’re in out of their little bubble. Isabelle joins her, and Jace can’t help but let out a few quiet huffs of laughter.

 

“Come on, you crazy kids. Let’s go home.” Jace moves so they can walk out, and waits until they are far enough down the corridor before walking to the corpse of the demon. There’s nothing left, it’s just ash in shades of grey and black, some clumps higher than others. Jace presses his foot onto one pile, waiting.

 

Waiting.

 

Waiting.

 

It doesn’t move.

 

He leaves.

 

Clary and Isabelle have moved up the stairs, and he can hear conversation - Alec and Magnus, from the sound of it - on the floor above. Jace reaches the top step, and is taken aback by the sheer amount of activity going on. There are warlocks everywhere, and Jace’s family is in the middle.

 

Magnus is talking to Clary and Alec about what happened, and if Jace somehow didn’t know that Magnus was the High Warlock, he would now. Magnus is in a suit, a deep purple-blue that matches the colour over his eyes and the gemstones and silver twisted into his ear cuff. He looks incredible and otherworldly, and Jace can immediately see what Alec sees in him. Aside from the wit, neverending kindness and ability to make any situation seem less terrifying. Sue him, Magnus Bane is an attractive enigma and Jace is happy that Alec is happy with him.

 

As Jace walks closer, he can see the rapidly fading cut on Alec’s hairline, and smiles to himself. “Magnus.” He says in greeting, and Magnus smiles.

 

“Jace. I was getting information on what exactly was going on here, just in case we miss anything during our search.” Magnus gestures to the flurry of activity with one bejewelled hand, and Jace nods, his admiration showing clearly on his face.

 

“I’m assuming this is a team you already had prepared?”

 

Magnus shakes his head. “Not specifically this design. I’ve got specialist groups assigned for trauma, cleanup, demonic activity and so on. When I need certain groups, I send out a call and whatever warlocks can make it show up.” As he finishes, a warlock, a Black woman with braids that shift into gorgeous emerald snakes, walks over.

 

“Yeah, Magnus, you were right. Another nest, another knee-jerk reaction.” She says, obviously fatigued by what she’s seen. She then registers everyone else in the group, and stiffens. “Maybe the Shadowhunters should head back, this is way out of their league.”

 

Magnus sighs, and rubs at the bridge of his nose. “Adelina’s right, this is too much for the Clave just yet. There’s too many missing pieces, and if the Clave starts sending people I’m going to have a hard time tracking down that missing warlock.” Adelina is about to say something, but a warlock with a lizard tail calls her over, and she leaves.

 

“Missing warlock?” Jace asks.

 

“Madzie. Clary said that Iris gave all the warlock children up for adoption, except for Madzie. Her keeping her makes me nervous.” Magnus explains, before snapping his fingers. A portal appeared behind him. “You’re going to want to take this if you want to make it back in time for the Rite of Mourning without causing a scandal.”

 

Isabelle shrugs. “We’re Lightwoods, scandals come with the territory.”

 

Magnus dramatically sighs, one hand moving to his chest. “Oh yes, the Lightwoods, a scandalous bunch who can never do anything straight-”

 

“Because none of us are!” Isabelle finished, and the lightness of the conversation seems to reach to the crowd of warlocks, because a few are more relaxed and smiling and comfortable.

 

Magnus laughs, and pulls Isabelle into a hug. “See me about that shoulder, okay?” She nods, before tugging Clary through the portal.

 

“I’ll make sure they got there okay.” Jace says, and winks at Alec. Alec says something, but it’s lost in the sound of the portal. Jace’s phone buzzes.

 

                                                            ALEC

                                                                     Fuck you

 

“What did you do?” Clary says, and Jace feigns innocence.

 

“I am the pinnacle of maturity, little sis.” he smiles, before glancing at the clock and realising he has to kill the mood. “It’s almost time. Do you need a hand getting ready?”

 

Clary rubs the back of her neck, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. “I just don’t know what to expect.”

 

Isabelle’s hand moves up her back. “Well, the whole point is to ask Raziel to look after them, and to make sure that their afterlife is as peaceful as the one they should have had here. We hope that Raziel understands that our souls are tired from fighting, and just want to rest.”

 

“So, today, we’re asking Raziel to make sure everyone’s okay in the afterlife?” Clary asks, half-sure of herself.

 

“Yeah, that’s what today is. We’re sending Jocelyn to the Angel.”

 

Clary nods. “If he treats her bad for running away and being sneaky, I’m going to have words with him.” Jace smiles; only Clary would think it’s a good idea to verbally threaten an Angel, but hey, she’s lad a long few days. “I should be okay, all white right?”

 

“Yeah, all white. I’ll come get you when it’s time, being blood relations and all.” Jace says, before leaving. He walks to his room, and is surprised to see some of the Shadowhunters already in white. None of them give him a second look, probably too deep in grief or social grounding to make a snide comment about his being here. He slips through the crowds and into his room. Someone’s been in here to clean, because his bed is made and there’s his mourning clothes, folded neatly and still warm from the dryer. He tugs his sweaty clothes off and attempts to hide the smell of sweat with a few sprays of deodorant before pulling on his funeral clothes. The grief slides on too, weighing heavy on his chest and back and making him want to curl up into a ball and cry.

 

He doesn’t have the luxury today.

 

What he does instead is let his face sit under running water until there’s a soft knock at the door. He turns off the tap, dries his face, and heads over. He tugs the door open to reveal Clary in a white dress that anybody else would wear on a first date. “You ready?” He asks, and she nods, silent. He wraps one arm around her shoulders and leads her to The Room.

 

The rest of the Institute is already gathered there, figures in white clothing, ghosts amongst corpses. Alec and Isabelle are already there, and Jace notices that Alec’s eyes are a deep red from crying. They say nothing as they approach, but Clary immediately clings to Isabelle. Jace presses his shoulder against Alec. Alec presses back.

 

The crowd begins to shift, moving towards the corpses, and the designated family begin to step away. Jace reaches out to Clar, and she takes his arm, following him towards the body of their mother. Her corpse is covered by a thin white sheet, and Jace has the urge to lift it up and check she’s not breathing, just in case.

 

“They wouldn’t let Luke or Simon come. They’re as much family as we are, but Simon isn’t blood and Luke isn’t her soulmate, so they can’t say goodbye.” Clary whispers, and Jace squeezes her hand.

 

“Don’t mundanes believe in spirits following them after people die?” Jace asks, and Clary smiles.

 

“If you see a bluebird, let me know.”

 

“Those remaining with take their places with the fallen.” Everyone moves into place at the sound of the Silent Brother’s voice. “Those remaining will say the names of the fallen.” The Silent Brother begins first, going through all of his lost kin, the crowd responding in turn.

 

“Brother Micah.”

  
“Pulvis et umbra sumus.” Echoes the crowd.   


“Brother Jeremiah.”

  
“For we are dust and shadows.”

 

Jace squeezes Clary’s hand, and she squeezes back. “Jocelyn Fairchild.” They say in unison, and Jace pulls her into a hug.

 

“Ave atque vale. Hail and farewell.” The crowd responded, and Jace meets Alec’s stare. He’s crying, and one hand reaches up to wipe them away. Jace sends as much affection and love he can muster through the bond. Alec blinks twice, before smiling a soft smile.

 

The air shakes around them, and the soft glow of whatever magic binds souls sends a soft glow throughout the room. The souls of every fallen Shadowhunter and Silent Brother glow white with angelic power as they float up and out the stained glass window.

 

“Bye, Mom.” Clary says, and Jace blinks back tears.

 

“Bye, Mom.”


End file.
